Making Waves
by GemmaH
Summary: Son of a rock star father and an actress mother, equally as notorious as they were famous, Edward Cullen attempts to escape the turbulent waters of the fame gifted him by his parentage. One scandal too many has him heading for the coast in search of a little calm. What he doesn't expect is for a girl, clueless of his identity, to cause new waves in his life.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I wasn't going to do this. Once Of Pleasure & Pain wrapped up I was going to put a lid on my fic writing, at least for a time, but I guess it's been nagging away at me. This story was always going to be written, but not necessarily in this format, but I was missing my lovely readers **

**The first chapter as posted here, was previously published in the Fandom 4 Heroes compilation last year, but everything after this will be new. I don't have an update schedule because my life is stupidly busy and my free time varies, but if I can keep my mojo going then I can usually find some time to write somehow! So…if you like this, cheer me on and I'll do my best for you!**

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**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer**

**Making Waves**

**Chapter 1**

'_Love, that the whole world's waters shall not drown,  
The whole world's fiery forces not burn down;  
Love, that what time his own hands guard his head  
The whole world's wrath and strength shall not strike dead'_  
**Tristram of Lyonesse by A.C Swinburne**

_A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it._ **~Jean de La Fontaine**

**Bella**

This is exactly what I need. I tip my head back and take a deep breath as the salty wind whips from the sea and stings my face.

This is the place of childhood summers spent digging on sandy beaches, jumping waves as my dad yelled warnings to me about the invisible sudden shelves in the sand beneath the water, and eating the most delicious ice cream I had ever tasted.

As a teenager, it was more about meeting other teens dragged away from home against their will. Fires on the beach in the dark, stolen kisses in hidden recesses in the rocks and shushing the boys who sneaked into my tent, smelling of JD, and laughing as my father's snores drifted from the caravan where my parents slept.

When did life get so damned complicated?

Oh yeah. I grew up.

**Edward**

Garrett called and told us everything. You know we love you Edward.

If you won't speak to us, at least send a message back.

Esme is worried about you. We both are. C.

I press the button to close my messages and toss the phone onto the empty passenger seat. The traffic light changes to green and I pull away steadily. None of my usual foot to the floor shit today; there's too much going on in my head and I can't think straight through the swirling density of it.

It's dark and wet as I crawl in second gear behind a milk float. People will be starting to emerge from these cosy family homes soon, leaving the children they claim to love so much with some fucking nanny while they go out to kick some sharp-suited arses all day before coming home once the nanny's put the kids to bed.

Not that I'd know, of course. I spent my childhood on film sets and backstage at gigs. I saw a lot of my parents. A lot more than I was comfortable with, truth be told. Sex, drugs and rock and roll. Not a title you would typically expect for a parenting manual, but it was the one my parents subscribed to.

I pull up to the kerb outside one of the houses. The lights are on, but I know that's because they haven't gone to bed yet, and not because they're early risers. A curtain twitches in an upstairs window of the house next door. The neighbours fucking hate him living here, spoiling their nice middle class North London street. He'd have moved a long time ago if he didn't know how much it annoyed them. Stubborn fucker.

I pause for a moment, my hand on the door catch. Suddenly I'm unsure. I really want to go in and get something to take with me, just in case I need it. On the other hand it's that shit that got me into this mess.

Before I can change my mind, I restart the engine and drive away. I've got some weed on me, that'll have to do.

As I head out of the city I pull into a garage to fill the car up with petrol. I'm just removing the petrol cap when I glance up and the plastic newspaper stand outside the shop catches my eye.

Under the banner proclaiming 'Sunday World Exclusive!' is a picture of me, with the headline 'Cullen Coke Shame'. Garrett had warned me it was coming out, but seeing it in print is something different altogether. I close the petrol cap, jump back in the car and get the hell out of there.

I drive until the petrol light comes on, and only then do I pull into the motorway services. It's getting light now. Not one of those days with a colourful sunrise though. No, it's going to be one of those grey, dreary days where it never quite gets fully light. Before I get out of the car, I look into the back, sighing with relief when I see a baseball cap lying on the back seat. I reach back and grab it, jamming it onto my head and pulling the peak down low over my face. For a moment I consider my sunglasses, but then decide they will only draw more attention to me in the murky dawn.

I stand in a world of my own as the digital numbers flicker on the pump. It's odd how your mind can simultaneously be swimming and yet blank.

Finally the pump cuts out and I fasten the petrol cap back up and go inside to pay. I falter at the newsstand for a moment and then grab a copy of The Sunday World, pushing the door open as I fold it in half with the front page inward. The bar-code is on the back page, so the cashier shouldn't need to unfold it.

"Pump number six?" the woman asks me pleasantly.

"Yes," I confirm. I don't look up from under my cap, keeping my eyes on the paper I've placed on the counter. Of course, this place doesn't scan newspapers. She unfolds it and places it flat on the counter while she looks for the price. I'm left with an upside down view of my own face until she folds it back up, keys the price into the till and tells me the total I owe.

I pull my card from my wallet, but as I move to hand it over, the blocky letters of my name embossed on it, catch my eye. I clear my throat as I push it back and count a series of notes out instead. No, I don't have one of their loyalty cards I tell her. And no, I don't want one. Thank you.

I only realise how tense I am once I have re-joined the motorway and pulled the cap from my head. My forehead is damp with sweat. I wipe it and curse myself for not thinking to buy a drink while I was in the shop; my mouth is so dry that my tongue is sticking to the roof of it. I reach into the door pocket, feel around and come up with a packet with just one piece of gum left in it. Working it out, I pop it into my mouth, relieved when it finally entices some moisture back through my saliva glands.

Another couple of miles and I'm trying to concentrate on the three lanes of traffic in front of me. I'm doing my best, but my eyes keep getting drawn back to the newspaper that sits on the passenger seat. The one time I glance back up to find I've strayed slightly over the line into the thankfully empty lane next to me, I pick it up and throw it into the back of the car. The words aren't going to change between here and Cornwall. It can wait. _I _can wait.

**Bella**

I couldn't honestly say that it was any one thing that had made me decide to stay on in England rather than heading back across the Atlantic with my mom. It was more like several annoying things that were piling up and beginning to drive me insane.

Work was quiet and yet still managed to be shitty. How that worked I had no idea but I wasn't being kept busy enough to be able to forget about all of the crap.

Mike was still draining me with his too-regular and often inappropriate contact. It had been six months now and the guy still called or texted almost every day. My own fault I guess for trying to keep things amicable. I wish he'd realized that when I said I hoped we could still be friends, I didn't actually mean it.

My best friend Jessica had made it clear after the break up that she really liked Mike. I told her to go ahead and knock herself out. Apparently she misheard me, because instead she went and got herself knocked up. So now I have Jess on the phone one minute either gushing, or complaining about pregnancy, while Mike sending me messages the next, telling me how much he misses me. Awkward. I was still working on how to sort this particular mess out.

Then there's my dad. His girlfriend, Sue has just broken the news that she needs to cool things a little as her youngest, Seth is starting to go off the rails. He's joined some gang over in La Push and she's out of her mind with worry. Dad is understandably devastated, both for Sue over all the shit she's going through with Seth, and also for their relationship. He's thrown himself into work, so even though I would have gladly hung around for his benefit for the next few weeks, I know that had I done, he'd have been at the station all of the time anyway.

When we got the call that Gran's condition had deteriorated and that she suddenly only had days, rather than the weeks that we had anticipated left, I made a decision. I would travel with my mom, but when she returned back home I would stay on for a while. Partly to escape all of the crap back home, but also to feel close to Gran for a while in the place that I love because of her.

And so it is with thoughts of Gran filling my head that I stand in the window of the cottage on the headland; looking out, as the winter sky begins to lighten over the sea.

I'm watching the outline of the rocks where the land juts out into the sea to the left, when something catches my eye. I turn my head to catch the final sweep of car headlamps at a house further along the cliff-top.

At _that_ house.

Sometimes in life, things come along that intrigue you for no particular reason. Well, this house had always intrigued me. Since I was a child on holiday here, I had looked up at it, sitting there white and proud against the green of the surrounding fields and the striking blue of the Cornish summer sky. I knew it had stories it could tell; if not there were a few in my head that I had imagined about the place.

And then of course there was the boy.

When I was a child, I would insist on walking the well-worn path that followed the headland, jumping on the spongy grass that the path ran through, and marvelling at how any ground could be softer than carpet. As we walked closer to thehouse, I would scrutinise it, imagining the characters I had created in my head living there, as they spied on smugglers and solved mysteries.

This is what I was doing on the day I saw him for the first time. I had skipped ahead, but had stopped to wait for Gran when she called to me. I was right beside the garden of the house, but frustratingly a thick hedge was screening it from my view. Scrabbling up onto a large stone that was half buried in the grass at the side of the path, I balanced on my tip-toes and stretched my neck to peer over the shrubs. I could just make out the top of the house and a balcony that extended out onto the roof of a single storey section. He was playing on the balcony. He appeared to be around my age, maybe a couple of years older. As I watched, he climbed up onto the lowest of the four or so horizontal railings that ran around the edge, and mimed looking out to sea with an invisible telescope. He slowly rotated the upper half of his body, until he was looking directly at me. Lowering his hands from his face, he tilted his head as though curious.

"Isabella! There you are!" Gran's voice startled me and I jumped quickly off the stone. "What did I tell you about running so far ahead of me?" she scolded.

"Sorry, Gran," I said. "I was just…" I glanced in the direction of the house and then back at her. She was looking back at me intently. "Nothing."

**Edward**

It was just light enough to make out where the sea met the horizon, as I drove the car through the meandering lanes. It was the sight that had always excited me as a child, because it meant that we were close to the place that I loved most in the world, in spite of all of the travelling I had done with my parents.

I had no idea how being back at the old house would feel for me, not after everything that had happened here, but it was still the only place that I wanted to be when everything had gone to shit.

Driving past the stone posts where the driveway met the lane, my eyes took in the familiar sign announcing the house. Trelandow.

Five years previously, my mother had been set on selling Trelandow. She'd never set foot through the door since _that weekend_ and had no intention of ever doing so again. I'd begged her not to sell it. Or rather, I'd made my uncle beg her not to sell it on my behalf. My mother and I don't speak; haven't done for eleven years and one month.

I park the car, climb out, and open the boot to lift my bag out. I reach into the pocket of my jeans

for the key as I walk to the door, eager to get inside and rest. The long drive, coupled with the

pressure I'm under, has exhausted me. I push the key into the lock, but it doesn't quite fit. Pulling it

out, I try again. Nothing. The damn lock has been changed. Why did nobody even bother to fucking

tell me?

I wonder what to do, and ultimately decide I'll have to call in on our housekeepers in the little

cottage along the cliff. Looking across to the building, I gratefully notice the windows are lit up. I've

driven enough this morning, I decide; I'll walk.

It takes me ten minutes in the half-light of the early dawn to navigate the path, but finally I reach

the cottage. I hold my finger on the doorbell, and then knock a couple of times for good measure. I

remember the kind couple who have always looked after the place for us, well. In contrast, I don't

recognise the dark-haired girl around my own age, who pulls the door open, at all.

"Is Jenks in?" I ask, instantly on edge as I look past her. I really don't want to be recognised right

now.

"I'm sorry, I don't know anybody called Jenks." She doesn't show any sign of recognising me, I

notice. She speaks with an American accent, so maybe she genuinely doesn't know who I am. The

thought floods me with relief. She begins to close the door.

"Wait." I jump forward and place my hand on it, stopping her. "He doesn't live here anymore?" I

ask. My brain is already racing with what I'll do. Why am I never kept informed of any of this kind of

shit? Do they really think I can't be trusted with any kind of responsibility? Obviously not. She's

backed away a little, but doesn't move to widen the gap in the doorway. I'm becoming a little pissed

off with her _less than helpful_ nature.

"I'm sorry, I'm just renting the place for a few weeks. I really can't help you." She moves to close

the door again.

"Please," I virtually beg. "You must have a phone number, or something? For the person you're renting from, I mean." She huffs, clearly annoyed with me. She's pretty, I decide, in a natural kind of way.

She's a far cry from the type of girls in the celebrity wannabe circles I move in. Big Brother

contestants, girls with aspirations that consist of no more than marrying some seedy footballer. Garishly made up, wearing hardly any clothes, and possessing even less personality. Of course I've

entertained more than my fair share of them, but none of them ever really hold my interest for

more than a night; two if they're lucky.

"Stay there, I'll go and see what I can find," she tells me, closing the door in my face. I wonder who

she is, where the Jenks' have gone and how long she's going to keep me waiting in this freezing

fucking field, as I stuff my hands in my pockets and stamp my feet to try and warm them up. To her

credit she's soon back and passing me a piece of paper onto which she's written 'Trish Bennett' and a phone number.

"Thank you," I tell her.

"You're welcome," she replies. I turn to walk away, but she calls after me. "You walked here?" I

detect the confusion in her voice and realise that the fact I'm heading back towards the headland

path probably looks a little strange at this early hour. I turn back to look at her.

"Yeah. That's my house over there." I point in the direction of Trelandow. "I've not visited for a

while though and my key won't work. Jenks is our caretaker."

"The white house? That's yours?" she asks. She tilts her head to the side, looking at me as though

for the first time.

"Yeah," I reply, a little puzzled by her reaction.

"You can wait here if you like. While you try and locate him, I mean," she says, smiling as she stands back from the door. "I was just making coffee. Join me?"

Several thoughts go through my mind as I step through the door and close it behind me. One is what caused the strange turn-around in her demeanour? The second concerns what the many benefits of having a friend here might be, especially one who has no preconceptions about me. The third thought reassures me that I haven't lost my old self completely, because I'm also wondering what she's like in bed and whether I stand a chance of finding out. I mentally slap the thought away. The last thing I need are more complications.

**I hope you liked it – let me know!**

**As an aside, I love Cornwall. I've spent many holidays there and find something magical about the place. 'The white house' does exist and always fascinated me, I'd love to live there - ideally with Edward ;) *sigh***


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. **

**Many thanks to Becky Brit for her pre-reading and advice **

**Chapter 2**

**Bella**

He owns the white house. He's a young, frankly astoundingly handsome man around my own age, who has knocked on my door and he _just_ happens to own the white house. I take a moment to cast my eyes upward and thank Gran, because surely this is some kind of divine intervention?

Pressing the button down on the electric kettle, I turn back around.

"Gah!" I clasp my hand to my chest, as I jump what feels like at least two feet into the air. He's standing right behind me.

"Sorry," he says, his face wearing a look of genuine remorse as he reaches a hand out and places it on my arm. "Are you ok?" I'm slumped back against the counter-top now as I try to breathe normally. My efforts were working until he touched me, but now my heart is beating fast again and my chest is rising and falling heavily. Following his line of vision, I note that he's noticed the movement too. He lifts his eyes back up to mine and sees that he's been caught, but there's nothing there. No sign of remorse, just… nothing. The lack of expression in his eyes freaks me out more than a little, and I'm reminded that I have invited a complete stranger into the house. I try to edge away a little, but there's nowhere for me to go; the counter is already digging uncomfortably into my back. His brow furrows as his gaze flickers down and takes in the way my knuckles grip the surface behind me. I only realize that I'm holding my breath as he takes a step backwards. It's almost as though he'd been pressing on me physically, and the air rushes from my lungs as he releases me from the crushing pressure of his nearness.

He clears his throat as he turns and wanders to the other side of the kitchen. I keep one eye on him as I get the mugs and crappy instant coffee from the cupboard, and the milk from the fridge. I'm on edge now at the situation I've gotten myself into. I don't know why this whole scenario didn't occur to me when I was standing at the door about to invite him in. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter under my breath as I spoon the coffee out of the jar.

"Sorry?" he asks as his head whips around towards me. The blush makes my cheeks burn as it spreads across them.

"Oh! Nothing. I was just talking to myself," I say, glancing across and noticing for the first time just how long his legs are in those worn blue jeans. He looks at me for just a fraction too long, before his attention goes back to the pinboard on the wall which has ads for all kinds of tourist attractions – none of which are open in November of course.

Finally the kettle finishes boiling and I make our drinks.

"The coffee's ready," I announce, as I hold a mug out. He closes the space between us quickly with a few strides of his long legs, and takes the proffered coffee, thanking me as he does so. A small but warm smile graces his mouth briefly, but his eyes don't meet mine this time. I know, because I'm watching them for some sign that he's not suffering from some kind of personality disorder; it's my self-preservation instinct kicking in. Better late than never, I figure.

He lets me lead the way back into the living room, where I sit down in the soft blue armchair and gesture for him to sit too when I realize he's hovering somewhat nervously.

"So, where are you from, uh…?" he begins. I only realize then that we haven't even introduced ourselves.

"Bella," I tell him.

"Bella," he repeats back. He's watching me now in a way that is definitely _not _making me fear for my life. My reputation perhaps, but not my life. I force myself to focus.

"And what about you? Do you have a name?" I'm still flustered by him and his ridiculous good looks as I ask, and only recognize how stupid my question sounds after it's out. He laughs and I recognize the distinctive tone of cynicism within the sound.

"Oh yeah, I have a name," he says and takes a drink from his mug as he shakes his head and the smile fades. I'm still looking at him expectantly, a little perplexed by his reply, when he looks over at me and starts, as though he just remembered I was there. "Edward," he says at last. "My name's Edward. And you didn't answer my question." He smiles gently. I swear I've seen at least three sides to him in the short time he's been here. Maybe I wasn't so far off with my concerns about personality disorders.

"I'm from Washington state," I tell him. "It's in the north-west tip of the U.S."

"I know where it is," he explains, surprising me. "I've been to Seattle. I lived in LA for a while when I was young, but we travelled around a lot too."

"Really?" I ask, impressed. "What did your parents do?"

It's like a shutter dropping down in front of his face. He goes from open and friendly to blank within moments.

"Oh, nothing much," he mumbles as he pulls his phone from his pocket and looks at the screen. "I think I'll try ringing this woman now." He doesn't look back at me as he drains his coffee and sets the cup down beside his feet. Unfolding the paper I gave him with the phone number on, he begins to hit the numbers on his phone.

I stand and head for the kitchen, stooping to collect his empty mug from the floor as I pass him. Something makes me pause and turn my head as my fingers close around the still-warm ceramic. He has the phone to his ear now and I can hear the ringing on the other end, but his eyes are fixed on me. My gaze drops down to his perfect lips, which are slightly parted, and before I can imagine running my tongue along that full, pink bottom lip, the tip of his own tongue pokes out ever so slightly.

The sound of a woman answering his call, breaks the spell. He turns his head away from me as he greets her and I snatch the mug up and scurry to the kitchen, my embarrassment over the moment propelling me forwards. I drop the cups into the sud-filled washing up bowl and turn around to face the kitchen doorway: I'm not sure my heart could take another shock if he sneaked up on me again, after all the extra work it's done this morning in response to his proximity.

I've never been this affected by another person before and certainly not so soon after meeting them for the first time. I have no idea what it is, but he's either causing it deliberately, or feeling it too. There's something in the intensity of these moments…

"Ok, so she's Jenks' niece or something. She has the keys and she's bringing them over." Despite the fact I'm facing the doorway, I'm so lost in my thoughts that he still manages to make me jump. He pauses, looking at me. I guess he's waiting for a response, but I can't muster one so he continues. "I'd better go. She said she'd only be ten minutes. Thanks for the coffee, Bella." He pauses again as though reluctant to leave, but then he turns to walk away and I'm suddenly shaken from whatever daze I was in.

"Wait!" I call, rushing forward. He turns back and I just manage to stop before I crash spectacularly into him in the doorway. "Sorry," I say breathlessly as I reach out a hand to steady myself on his chest. He feels warm beneath my palm, and I'm aware of the definition on his firm flesh. I pull my hand back and fold my arms in front of myself as I smile apologetically up at him. "I was just going to say, you're welcome to call in any time. I mean, I'm here alone so…" I mentally kick myself again. So little time in this man's presence and I'm already ignoring almost every piece of personal safety advice my dad ever gave me.

"Thanks," he says, smiling as he pulls the zipper up on his jacket, but giving absolutely no indication as to whether he's even considering my offer. I wonder why I even did that? It was out of character and his lack of response makes me feel more than a little idiotic for even _thinking_ a man like him might want to spend time with me. I look a little more closely at his smile, trying to figure out whether it's mocking or not. It doesn't seem to be, but I can't be sure. A part of me actually hopes that I _won't _see him again, because I'm not sure my body or mind can cope with being in this kind of proximity to him. But at the same time… the thought of not seeing him again leaves me more than a little panicky.

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**Edward**

As I walk back along the headland towards Trelandow, my mind fixates on the woman in the cottage and tortures me by replaying each moment I was there. I can see trouble ahead for several reasons: she's close by, she's alone, she doesn't know who I am, and my levels of self-control are verging on non-existent.

"You can't do this, Cullen," I mutter to myself as I pull the zipper right up on my jacket and keep my head down against the wind. There's no way I can drag anybody else into my clusterfuck of a life. If the tabloids and gossip mags were to find out…

It's been a long time since I spent any time at all with somebody who didn't know who I was. All my life I've been recognized; how ironic that I'm craving anonymity whilst so many nobodies would sell their souls for their fifteen minutes of fame these days. If only they'd lived with the reality, they might not be so eager to have it within their grasp.

Trish Bennett arrives at the house at the same time I walk back through the gate posts, her VW Golf coming to a halt in the space beside my car on the wide driveway. It's light enough to see clearly now, I realize as she steps out onto the gravel surface.

"Mr Cullen, I'm so sorry," she says as she strides over to me. "If I'd been expecting you I'd have popped down and put the heating on and stocked the fridge."

Trish is in her mid-forties at a guess. She's slim and around five feet nine tall, but I notice that she has heeled boots on that must add a good couple of inches to her real height. Her manner is friendly but she's clearly an efficient woman, well-turned out and with immaculate shoulder length blonde hair. As she reaches me she sticks her hand out and shakes it firmly when I wrap my own around it. She smiles as she formally introduces herself and I can't help but smile back at her, mainly in relief at her attitude towards me. She's actually treating me like a normal human being. I think she is anyway; my experience is limited.

"Yeah, well it wasn't exactly planned, just a spur of the moment thing," I explain as I pull my modest rucksack from the back seat of my car and hoist it onto my shoulder.

"It's been too long since anybody was here," she replies as I press the remote to lock the car and we walk to the front door. I detect a scolding note to her voice. "It's criminal, a house like this standing empty." I smile a little because her words show that she cares. Everybody falls in love with Trelandow.

Trish puts a key in the lock and turns it. The door opens without physical or vocal protest, swinging smoothly to the side to allow us to enter. Trish steps over the threshold first, but stands aside holding the door open while I follow her in, before she closes it quietly behind me. I take a few tentative steps forward, inhaling deeply but finding myself disappointed at the lack of familiar smell in the place. There's a slight mustiness hanging in the air and the faint aroma of a sickly sweet air freshener, but that's all. It doesn't smell like home. I feel myself deflate a little.

"Do you remember where everything is?" Trish asks me as I wander through to the living room and drop my rucksack onto the long white sofa.

"Yeah, I think so," I tell her. She moves to the edge of the room and begins to pull on a cord. Her action causes the vertical blinds that have been covering the windows to turn and then slide back. They follow the glass along the entire front of the room and around the curves of the corners on the two sides, where the glass continues. Finally, a full panoramic vista of the sea and coastline in the morning light is on view. It takes my breath away, and I walk slowly forward until I'm barely two feet from the glass.

"I'd forgotten how beautiful it is here," I murmur.

"How long is it since you've been?" Trish asks, her voice soft as she moves to stand beside me.

"Eleven years."

"Eleven years? That was when…" her voice tails off and I turn to glance at her, catching the curious look she's giving me before I look back out at the sea. I swallow the lump that has appeared in my throat as I nod slightly to confirm what she had been about to say. "I'm sorry," she offers, resting her hand on my arm for a moment before she turns and quietly leaves the room. As soon as I hear her moving around in the kitchen, two tears make a break for it and slip quickly down over my cheeks. I blink and swipe at them with the sleeve of my jacket. Dammit, I'd thought coming here would be an escape from all the shit, but instead I've rushed headlong into a much older and festering pile.

As soon as I've composed myself, I go in search of Trish. She gives me a quick lesson on how to work the central heating, offers to drop some shopping off for me, which I decline, and explains where I can find her if I need anything at all. As she's leaving, I call out to her and she steps back towards me.

"I don't want anybody to know that I'm here, I'd appreciate your discretion." She looks searchingly into my face but I'm sure I'm giving nothing away. Eventually she acquiesces, offering a nod.

"Of course. Although you know that people expect this place to be empty; they're bound to notice that it's being lived in," she says.

"I intend to be inconspicuous," I tell her. She's quiet for a moment.

"Then are you sure about the shopping? I really don't mind—"

"I'm sure," I cut in sharply, instantly regretting my harshness. "Thank you." I just need to be alone for a while.

"Ok. Well, you know where I am." Trish gets in her car, turns it around and drives away. I watch it retreating for a moment before the wind catches me, causes me to shiver and forces me back inside.

With the door closed and locked behind me, I turn in the opposite direction and wander to the bottom of the stairs. A large spiral staircase twists upwards inside a glass semi-rotunda on the side of the house. I place one foot on the bottom step and grasp the handrail, but then I pause, gazing up and taking a deep breath to gather my courage. Slowly I climb one storey, leaving the uppermost level for later. Along the landing, I pass by the series of closed doors until I come to the one that's so much more familiar than the rest. The entrance to my room.

For the first time in eleven years, I turn the door handle and walk inside. The memories come rushing at me as I cast my eyes around the space, noticing that the things my seventeen year old self left behind are still here; my old CD player and a stack of CDs, a well-used skateboard, even a block of surfboard wax on the old desk that stands against the wall. I move to the window and pull the curtains back, allowing the daylight in before I turn to the door that leads out onto the balcony and try the handle. It's locked, of course. At the desk I pick up the small blue-glazed pot that sits there. I tip it up and smile in satisfaction as a metal key drops out and hits the wood with a small thud.

It slips into the lock, but refuses to turn until I've pulled the handle towards me as hard as I can; just as I always had to. As the door begins to open, the wind catches it and tries to force it from my grasp. I step outside and manage to wrestle it closed behind me, and then huddle against it, my back to the wind while I light a cigarette. As I take a delicious pull on it, I feel my lungs fill with the smoke. I'm toxic inside anyway; what's a little more poison?

Rails run around the three open sides of the balcony. I walk to the front set and lean my hands on the top rail, the cigarette between my fingers. I keep my eyes purposely diverted away from where _it_ happened, focusing instead on the beach below. A figure catches my eye; a woman with her dark-hair pulled into a ponytail that swings from side to side as she jogs along the sand. I know it's her - _Bella. _There's something about her that draws me in, and it's not the usual things that attract me to women, although, _oh God, _she has all of those too. Something deeper; something bigger. I already want more, but how to resist?

_I can help_, whispers my fragrant, green friend from my pocket. My fingers go in search of it, curling around the plastic-wrapped lump. _You can help for now_, I admit. _But I'm not sure you'll be enough for very long…_

* * *

**Please review and let me know what you think! Any thoughts on our leading lady and man yet?**

**I've set up a FB group for my fic where I've posted some pictures of Edward's house and intend to post teasers, feel free to come along and discuss, post, chat, etc. Would love to see you there! Search for GemmaH Fanfiction.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

**Thanks to BeckyBrit for her pre-reading, error spotting and advice **

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Bella**

My visitor has left me on edge, unable to shake the restlessness, so I change and go for a run along the beach. Once I feel calm enough, I head back and shower. I open the fridge and see I'm going to have to drive to the village because I'm almost out of milk. It only takes five minutes to get there, and if I hadn't already raced up and down the beach twice, I would have run there instead.

Inside the store I grab a bottle of milk from the chiller and head back down the aisle. As I pass the shelves with the newspapers on, I look twice at the front page of the one that screams, 'Cullen Coke Shame!' I reach out and pluck a copy from the stack and hold it where I can read it. As grainy as the picture is, I recognize the man in it; I just spent the past hour trying to force him out of my head using only the medium of exercise.

'_Wild playboy, Edward Cullen, has been caught on camera taking cocaine at a private party in North London. Cullen, 28, the son of actress Elizabeth Masen and 1980's rock band _Vamps' _tragic frontman, Eddie Cullen, is pictured snorting the drug off a coffee table at the bash, believed to be at the home of _Soldier Boy _actor, Jasper Whitlock.'_

I stand, open-mouthed, reading and re-reading the words.

"Sad, isn't it?" a voice next to me says. I look up to find an elderly lady peering at the newspaper through her glasses. "I remember when they used to come here for their holidays. Sweet little thing he was." I still feel a little like a rug has been pulled from underneath me and stand mute, unable to find the words to make polite conversation, until she smiles and turns to wander away. As I look back at the picture again, I take in his hunched form, the rolled banknote held between his fingers and the white line on the table top. I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment as painful memories transpose themselves onto this new image; so similar apart from the hunched figure isn't a beautiful man, but a pretty, vibrant girl. And it's not a laughing blonde draped over her, but a smirking, arrogant man whose face I hate. For it was his fault, when all was said and done, that my best friend was taken away too young.

Someone jostles me as they try to pass by in the narrow space, and I'm catapulted back to the present. I move, heavy-footed to the cash desk and pay for the milk and newspaper.

Back at the cottage, I sit at the dining table and spread the paper out in front of me. As well as the front page, there's a double page spread inside. He's pictured again at the party, the blonde on his lap this time and a beer bottle clasped in his hand. There are other pictures too; Edward leaving a night club looking wasted and one of him at some function looking beyond handsome in a suit and tie, his face serious. And then, in the corner, is a picture of small boy. He's smiling widely as he sits on his mother's knee, with his father's arm around her shoulders. The sun is shining and the sky is an amazingly bright blue without a single cloud in sight. There's a swimming pool behind them and beyond that are the unmistakable white walls of their house.

I recognize the boy immediately, because in my head I have an ingrained memory of the same boy standing on the railings of his balcony and looking at me through an imaginary telescope. I look at the photograph again. It's clear to see where Edward's good looks come from; both his mother and father are insanely attractive. I turn back to the front page and begin to read the full article.

* * *

**Edward**

"Bastard!" I say aloud to the empty room. I'm looking at the front cover of the Sunday World, at a picture of myself snorting a line at Jas's party. It's clear to me where this picture came from, because the only person sitting on that side of the room was Alec. I should have trusted my instincts. I've been doing the whole celebrity thing a lot longer than Jas and I know a hanger-on when I see one. I grab my phone to call Jasper, turning the page of the newspaper as it connects and starts to ring. The image slaps me in the face as soon as my gaze touches it. I end the call and drop the phone onto the sofa next to me. Where the hell did they get this picture? I don't remember ever seeing it before. It looks like it's taken from a magazine shoot or something similar, but that's not the kind of thing my parents really used to subscribe to, they didn't flaunt their celebrity at all as far as I remember. I bring it closer to my face and look closely at it. I look genuinely happy; wide-eyed with innocence, just as children should look.

I wonder at how I went from being a part of this happy family unit; the center of the universe for these two people, to being here alone. My mind travels further, lingering on thoughts of my mother and whether she feels the striking isolation and same sense of loss I do, when I think back to these happier times. An ache rises up from deep inside my body, climbing up into my chest. I know from past experience that if I allow it to keep coming then it will evolve into a sob in my throat and force the unwanted salt-water from my eyes that I despise. I swallow almost painfully and re-focus on the newspaper in front of me, successfully forcing the rising tide of distress to ebb away again.

I skim the text that accompanies the pictures. At least seventy-five per cent of this article is bull-shit, but that's irrelevant, because the public believe everything that these rags spoon-feed them. By now they'll all think they know me. They'll think I'm sleeping with every woman I'm pictured with, regardless of whether they're a friend, a stranger, a lover or a relation. There'll be no regard for the three year relationship I had but kept out of the public eye because I wanted to protect it because they think they know me. It won't matter that I hadn't touched coke for five months before that picture; I'm a fucked-up junkie in their eyes. Ok, maybe that's not such a good example, I did fall off the wagon pretty spectacularly after that party. _Thank God nobody was there to sell _that_ one to the papers._

My phone rings. Jasper.

"Hello."

"Edward, I'm so sorry, mate. How are you doing?"

"How do you think I'm fucking doing, Jas?" I snap at him. I immediately feel bad; he didn't intend this to happen. Fuck, there had been plenty of times we'd both done stupid shit and it hadn't gone public, there was no reason for this to have done.

"If I see Alec again he's going to regret this," Jasper vows. I sigh.

"Trust me, the best thing you can do is just never speak to him again. Do you really want to give him more stories he can sell?" Jasper is quiet but I know he's thinking about it.

"I suppose not," he admits at last.

"There's no need to get yourself dragged into this, Jas, if he's got no photos of you then just deny knowing anything about it. You've got a career to protect, this kind of shit _is _my career." We're both quiet for a moment as we consider my statement.

"Hey, are you busy today or do you want to get together later?" Jasper asks after the pause.

"I'm laying low for a while, but thanks for the offer, man. Look, I have to go, I'll call you soon."

"Ok, no worries. See you soon."

As I sit in the quiet of the house, I wonder what I was thinking of, coming here when there are clearly no distractions I can use to take my mind off things. I thought I loved this house, but I guess it's not the same when it's your prison, not your freedom, and you're suffering through it alone.

My stomach begins to grumble. I've not eaten since last night and there's nothing in the house. I'm going to have to risk showing my face in public. _So much for the self-imposed exile._ I pull a beanie onto my head, grab my jacket and keys, head out and slam the front door behind me. I stop and sigh as I look at my car. It's a shiny, bright red and almost brand new BMW Z4. There's no way I'm going to avoid being noticed, as soon as I pull up in _that_ everyone's going to be watching to see who gets out of it. I throw my head back in frustration. As I bring it back down again, I have the little cottage along the headland directly in my eye-line. A thought enters my head. I chase it away again, but it scurries back.

_Fuck it._

I go out through the gateway and then double back on myself to join the cliff-top path. She's going to think I'm crazy. Or a stalker. Or maybe just a crazy stalker. She might not even be in anyway, I can just go home again and she'll never know. But then I'll have to go out to the shops. I should have just phoned Trish back and told her I'd changed my mind. Why didn't I do that instead of coming back here? _You know exactly why you're coming back here. I said this earlier, Cullen. You have zero self-control._

As I approach her door, I feel strangely nervous. I don't get nervous. I've spent all my life in the spotlight and have a full set of gregarious genes from both parents. What the hell is this? It must be the situation I've found myself in, all of the uncertainty; the turmoil.

She answers after one knock. There's surprise on her face and also something else… caution perhaps. She looks even better than she did when I intruded on her first thing this morning.

"Hi," she greets me.

"Hi. I'm sorry to bother you again, but I could do with some help and I don't really know who else to ask."

"Ohh kaay." She drags the response out as though afraid of what I'm going to ask.

"Would you possibly, if it's not too much trouble, I mean, be able to do some shopping for me?" I look at her, waiting for her response to the strange question, but she's looking behind me at the couple who are strolling along the path just the other side of her garden wall. She looks back at me as she reaches out and gently grasps my arm.

"You'd better come inside. You don't want anyone to see you, do you Edward?" I pause for a moment, studying her face. She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head to one side in challenge.

She knows.

I let her drag me inside, and when I close the door behind me, I lean back against it, suddenly afraid.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I blurt out. She turns and looks at me but I can't stop. "I don't know what I'm doing here in Cornwall, or here at your place," I gesture around me. "I ran away from London and now I have no idea what to do. I have no food in my house and if I go to the shops then everyone will know I'm here. I never think things through, I'm impulsive and that's really not working for me now. I need some help, Bella." I pull my beanie off and run my hand through my hair. She's still looking at me, but she appears as afraid as I feel.

"_You _want _me_ to help you?" she asks tentatively.

"I _need _you to help me," I reply. "I don't know anybody else within more than two hundred and fifty miles."

"Well, what about the woman whose number I gave you? The one that brought you the key?" she asks. I'm sure I detect a hint of desperation in her voice now. I grimace.

"She already offered and I told her no."

"You told her no?"

"Look, I was having a bad five minutes and I just wanted to be alone, ok? If I'd have said yes, she'd have been there another half an hour writing a bloody list or something."

"Come and sit down," she says at last, as she walks ahead of me.

Before I lower myself onto the sofa, my eye catches the copy of the newspaper on the table at the back of the room.

"You saw it then?" I ask, nodding to the offending item.

"Yes. I was a little surprised to see you on the newsstand in the store like that. You didn't say anything earlier." She sits down in the chair opposite me.

"What was I supposed to say? _Hi, I'm Edward Cullen. You clearly have no idea who I am, but actually I'm pretty famous around here._ That wouldn't have been awkward for either of us, right?" She concedes with a nod of her head before she hangs it a little.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm really not used to finding out a guy I made coffee for in my holiday let, is actually a celebrity." She wears an apologetic look which I find both endearing and entirely unnecessary.

"Well it was new for me too," I explain. "I'm not used to meeting anyone around my own age who doesn't know who I am." Her eyes have been flicking nervously between me, the floor and her own hands. I let out a huge sigh. "You see? This is the side of it I hate; it changes everything. You weren't acting nervous earlier, you weren't too scared to look me in the eye. _I'm the same person I was when I sat here with you this morning, Bella. I've not changed._'

"No, you haven't changed," she agrees. "You were still famous this morning, I just didn't know about it."

"And it was great!" I blurt out, my voice raised as I sit forward in my seat. "Just once it was nice to have somebody who didn't have any preconceptions or expectations of who I am or what I do or how I'll behave. You treated me like a normal person and I liked it! So please, try to forget all the crap you read in that article, because, believe me, most of it is lies anyway."

"The camera never lies though, right?" she says. I think back to the picture from my childhood and how I'd questioned the very same adage earlier in the day. But I know that it's not that particular photograph that she's referring too, and I can't deny that in this case, it's true.

"Yeah, that's me," I admit. We're both quiet in the wake of my admission. I look at her frequently, but she scarcely looks at me. When she does and she sees me looking back at her, she diverts her eyes quickly.

"I guess I can help, if you really want me to," she says at last. I'm relieved, not just on a practical level, but because I actually feel that I have someone I'm in this with. The feelings of isolation that washed over me as I stood looking out of Trelandow from behind its windows almost had me in a panic. I'd always surrounded myself with people; granted, not always the best people, but I'd never been lonely. I smile widely.

"Thank you," I tell her, genuinely.

A sudden thought strikes me.

"You never said why you were here all alone. It's a strange choice of destination from the U.S." The words pour from my mouth before I've really had a chance to think them through. Bella smiles a sad smile that makes me want to pull her into a hug.

"I came over for my Grandmother's funeral and decided to stay on over here. We used to have all our family holidays around here. I wanted to take some time to remember her before I head home again," she explains patiently. I feel bad for barging in with all of my issues in the light of what she's told me.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking you to help me, you've got your own stuff going on." I move to rise from my seat.

"Don't go," Bella insists. "Really, you're not getting in the way of anything. I'd like to help. Besides, I just know Gran would have got a real kick out of this" she adds, as a devilish light graces her eyes and her mouth pulls up into a smirk. "She was a sucker for a pretty face."

* * *

**So she's found out his secret! Well…one of them anyway ;)**

**Starting a new story is always nerve-wracking, I'd love you to leave a review to let me know what you think!**

**I have a group on FB where I've been posting pictures and teasers, come along for a nosy or a chat, it'd be lovely to see you there: GemmaH Fanfiction **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer**

**Chapter 4**

I feel the flutterings of nervous excitement as I draw my car between the gateposts of Trelandow and pull to a stop beside the bright sports car that's already parked there. I haul the four bags of groceries from the trunk and admire the car as I walk past it on my way to the door. This had to have been one of the most surreal days of my life, and if someone had told me last night that this was how today would shape up then I'd have laughed in their face.

The sky is growing darker, a combination of the failing late afternoon light and the threat of a shower blowing in from over the ocean. Through the gloom a light glows, drawing me towards it like a beacon.

The bags are cumbersome enough that I have to set them down so I can press the doorbell. I wait, but have to press it again before I see any sign of life beyond the glass pane set into the wood. Edward answers the door, his phone held to his ear and his brow furrowed.

"Absolutely not, there's no way… I said no, Carlisle. If she even tries— yes. Yes. I'm well aware of that, but I don't see why I should." Edward pauses, I assume to listen, and cradles the phone between his shoulder and his cheek. He reaches out for the bags, which I picked up when he answered the door, and I hand them over to him. He mouths '_thanks'_ at me. And then… _then_ _he turns_, kicking the door shut behind him.

I'm too stunned to move. I stand there, staring at the door for a long moment before I take in what actually happened. I don't know why I'd expected anything different, he asked me to do something for him and I did it; at no point had he made me any promises. All of the perceptions I had about celebrities being up their own asses were blatantly true, I decide as I turn away.

* * *

Rudeness is my number one pet hate, and I continue to brood over Edward Cullen's treatment of me long after I arrive back at the cottage. I try to watch TV, read, and listen to music, but I can't settle, so I finally decide I'll eat out.

I don't go more than a mile and a half, just to the pub across from the beach, but I take the car as the rain that threatened earlier has begun to fall in big, fat drops. It's dark outside now, so once inside the pub my window-seat doesn't allow me much of a view, but the way it reflects back into the room, makes it great for covert people-watching.

By the time I leave, I'm feeling a whole lot less keyed-up than I was when I arrived, and when I get out of the car at the cottage I'm actually humming happily to myself. As I approach the front door, I can see by the glow of the outside light that there is something on the doorstep. The plastic bag rustles in my hand as I pluck it from where it sits. I peer inside.

Oh, holy frickin' Gods of mortification. Please, no!

I close the bag, grasping it with one hand while I cover my eyes with the other, willing this not to be happening. I take my hand away from my face and fish in my pocket for the front door key. It turns easily in the lock and I push my way inside, taking the bag containing the box of tampons I'd inadvertently left in Edward's shopping, with me.

* * *

It's seven a.m. and I'm shivering in my pajamas as I hurry down the stairs and across the freezing tiled floor of the hallway to the front door. The feeling of disorientation is beginning to lift slightly as I reach the source of the knocking sound that yanked me rudely from the amazing sex dream I was just having about a certain celebrity, just as he was about to…

_You have to be kidding me._

I run a hand through my ratty bed-hair self-consciously, even though he already has his eyes fixed on me through the glass. I brace myself, crack the door, and stick my head around it in an attempt to protect my body from the sting of the wind blowing in off the Atlantic.

"I need you to go and get me a newspaper," Edward blurts out. I take a long look at him. He's shifting impatiently from foot to foot and I'm trying desperately not to think too deeply about how good he looks, even at this time of the morning. I raise an eyebrow at the sheer nerve of the man.

"I don't think so," I tell him and close the door. Loudly. Of course he knocks again; I guess he's not used to people telling him no. I reluctantly open it again, my irritation at being woken now combined with the enormity of what an asshole this guy is after his behavior last night.

Edward leans right into the doorway, his hand on the frame so that I can't close it again without injuring him, and even though slamming his hand in the door is pretty appealing right now, I resist.

"Bella, please."

"Why should I?" I say, struggling to keep my voice neutral. "I did your grocery shopping yesterday and all I got was the door closed in my face." The frown that has been gracing his face is suddenly replaced by a look of realisation.

"Oh! Shit, yeah. I'm sorry," he says, reaching into his wallet, pulling out a twenty pound note and holding it out to me. "Here."

I'm incredulous now.

"I don't want your money!" I tell him. "Just a proper acknowledgement would have been nice before you closed the door on me." My fingers begin to ache as I realize just how tightly I'm gripping the edge of the door in anger.

"I did actually come over last night to share the beer with you," he says as he slips the money back into his wallet.

"You did?" I ask, surprised at this new piece of information. An awkward look appears on his face.

"Did you get the… I mean, did you find the… what I left? In the bag? I assumed they were yours, I don't remember putting them on my list."

Oh God, the tampons. He actually brought up the tampons.

"Uh, yes. Thank you. I'm sorry." He'd got _me _apologising to _him _now. What the hell? He's looking at me now, all big green eyes and long lashes and…

"So…the paper? Would you?" he asks again and I swear he just batted those long lashes at me as he asked.

"Ok," I whisper, lost. I look at him for a long moment as he holds my gaze steadily. I force myself out of the trance he's put me into.

"I need to shower before I go anywhere," I tell him when I finally recover the power of speech. "I guess you can wait here though," I shrug my shoulders, feigning an indifference that I don't actually feel. He half-smiles with gratitude, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I wonder why.

I let him in and wave him through, hanging back in the doorway. "Make yourself at home," I say. "I won't be long." I turn abruptly and run up the stairs to the bathroom, my muscles suddenly filled with an uncomfortable energy that I feel the need to burn off.

I get showered and dressed in record time. I tell myself that I don't want to keep him waiting when he's so keyed up, but in actual fact I'm already beginning to question the true motivation behind the way I'm hurrying to get back to him. I force myself to slow down on the stairs so that I don't burst into the room and draw attention to the adrenaline rush I'm currently experiencing, but even so, when I catch my reflection in the mirror above the living room fireplace, I can see that my cheeks are pinker than usual and my eyes are sparkling.

Edward's pacing the floor and sees my reflection before he sees me. His eyes fix on me in the mirror and just for a moment he doesn't look as troubled as he did before. I feel my heart soar for a moment before I berate myself for being so ridiculous. Apart from anything else I was pissed at him when I woke up this morning. When did I become the kind of girl who can be won over with a simple bat of a guy's lashes? Even if he is a hot, celebrity- type guy. I wish for a moment that I had a best girlfriend that I could discuss this with; one who could give me the virtual back-to-my-senses-slap that I clearly need. Next thing I know I'll be simpering.

Hell, this is no good, I need to pull myself together.

"I'm ready," I tell him. "Are you coming along?" Half of his mouth pulls to the side in a kind-of-a-smile, while his eyes roll and his head tilts in a way that says he wishes he could. "You can wait in the car," I suggest. "There won't be many people around at this time. Besides, have you seen my rental car? There's no way anybody would even remotely suspect anyone famous of being inside it," I tell him with a smile.

He agrees, so we climb into the small silver Citroen, and Edward somehow manages to fold his legs into the space in front of him. He pulls his hood over his head as soon as we start to move. I can barely see his distinctive face from right next to him, so as long as he keeps his head down I'm sure he'll be fine. I drive to the village, only passing two other cars en route, and decide to park in the empty pub parking lot opposite the store, rather than right outside the place, where a couple of other cars are already parked.

"Ok, which paper is it?" I ask, turning to face him as I prepare to get out.

"The Daily News," he replies, holding a one pound coin out to me. I pluck it from his fingers and feel my face flush as my fingers touch his. I exit the car and jog across the deserted road to the store.

As I stand in front of the newspapers, I see that there had been no need for me to ask him which paper, because yet again he's front page news. Beside a picture of a glamorous woman who looks to be in her early fifties, is a smaller picture of Edward and the headline 'My fears for Edward: Elizabeth Masen shares her concerns for playboy son exclusively with The Daily News".

Edward looks up as I slide back into the driver's seat of the car. He thanks me quietly as I hand him the newspaper, but I notice he doesn't look at it, he just sits it on his lap, still folded and stares straight ahead.

"You don't talk to your mom?" I ask him in a moment of bravery. He laughs; the sound gives the message '_as if_'.

"No, I don't." I take my eyes off the road for a moment to glance at him. He's shaking his head. I want nothing more than to ask him for details, but he clearly doesn't want to talk about it and I don't know him well enough to press him. I regret not buying myself a copy of the paper too, but realize that would have looked too obvious. Maybe I'll just come out again later and pick one up.

I assume he wants to go home, so I drive past the turning to my cottage and pull in further along at the gateway to the white house. I stop the car, but leave the engine running as I wait for him to climb out. Instead he turns to me.

"Do you want to come in? I can't promise to be the best company, but it'd be nice to not be alone for a while." He doesn't bat his lashes this time; he doesn't need to.

"Yeah, okay," I reply, cutting the engine and unbuckling my seatbelt.

As I wait for him to unlock the front door, my eyes stray upwards and follow the ascent of the spiral staircase that twists up inside the glass rotunda on the side of the house.

"Bella?" His voice brings me back down to earth, and when I look back at him I realize that he has the door open now and is standing just inside, waiting for me to join him. I smile shyly.

"Sorry," I say. "It's just this house; it's fascinating." He smiles at me.

"It is pretty impressive," he concedes, ushering me in before he locks the door behind us. He offers me coffee as he shrugs out of his coat, and I gladly accept as I wander round the living room with its huge glass windows looking out over the sea and coastline. There are the bare bones of furniture here, but nothing homely. The house reminds me of Edward; it holds the promise of being breath-taking, but there's something a little off. Something missing.

When he appears with two cups of coffee and the paper tucked under his arm, I'm seated on the long couch that faces the window. He hands me a cup, places his on the low coffee table, and sits down, leaving a space between us. I watch him carefully as he unfolds the paper and begins to take in the front page, a frown on his face.

"How long is it since you last saw her?" I venture.

"Eleven years," he replies without looking up. "She pops up in magazines and shit pretty often though, so I know what she looks like.

"She looks good for her age," I offer. He snorts softly.

"That'll be the surgery."

"Oh." I feel a little foolish and decide to let him read in peace.

Edward is far from silent as he works his way through the article, huffing and cursing often. Finally he closes the paper forcefully, folds it in half and flings it at the table, where it lands, barely missing his cup.

"She's still as full of bullshit as ever," he declares. Without warning he scoots across the couch, closing the gap between us until his thigh is pressing against mine. I'm more than a little shocked and my heart begins to thump at his sudden nearness. "Tell me," he says, his face close to mine, his eyes wandering all across my face, taking in my features. I feel exposed, as though he can see inside me and read my thoughts. My mouth is dry despite the half-empty cup in my hand that now trembles ever so slightly. "Is this compulsive need to manipulate everybody around you a typical female trait or is it just my mother?" There's something a little frantic and untamed about his behaviour now and it both terrifies and excites me as he looks at me almost hungrily. I've not managed to answer him, and the disconcerting way he's eyeing my lips as he waits for a reply, isn't helping any coherent thoughts to form in my mind. I manage to shake my head a little and he leans in a little closer, his eyes flicking between my eyes and my mouth. I want to be bold enough to stand my ground, maybe even to close the gap, to crash my mouth onto his in the way that's currently running through my thoughts. But I'm not, so I lean back a little, away from him, my body uncomfortable with the feeling that it's being hunted. "I despise games, Bella," he whispers. His words feel as though they should be menacing, but instead they come across as disappointed, and I'm unsure whether they're aimed at me or his mother.

As suddenly as he closed in on me, he moves away again, flopping against the cushions of the couch, his head lolling back. I sit perfectly still for a moment, blinking as I try to figure out what just happened. I wonder if he's taken something. I try to look at him surreptitiously, but as though he feels my eyes on him, he turns his head without lifting it from where it rests, and looks at me with interest before his brow pulls down into a frown.

"Did I upset you?" he asks.

"No," I answer truthfully. "You just surprised me. I wasn't expecting... that." I gesture with my head, trying to indicate his sudden movements.

"I'm sorry. It's been a difficult couple of days. Fuck knows where I go from here." He looks up at the ceiling as his knees jiggle up and down.

"Are you staying here long?" I ask, aware of the tendrils of fear that snake out and furl around me as I ask.

"I'd like to stay a while," he replies. "I think I need a little time out to clear my head. How staying here will work in reality, I have no idea. I'm already driving myself mad," he confesses as he runs his hands through his hair and brings them to rest behind his head, elbows pointing upwards.

"What about you?" he asks. "When do you head home?"

"I don't have my return flight booked, but the cottage is only booked for another two weeks. I'll probably move on somewhere else after that."

We're both silent. I'd love to know what he's thinking, but I don't know him well enough to ask so I remain quiet as I continue to wonder.

"Do you want me to show you around?" he asks when he finally speaks. My head snaps up at his words.

"I'd love you to," I tell him honestly. He stands and I'm preparing to do the same when he reaches down and offers me his hand. I let him help me to my feet and try not to show my disappointment when he breaks the contact between us as soon as I'm standing. As I look up at him to thank him, the sun breaks through the clouds beyond the vast windows and hits him, the angle causing mind-blowing contrasts of equal perfection between light and shadow. He's beautiful and—

"You're beautiful," he blurts out.

I'm shocked, to the point that my mouth falls slightly open and I'm rendered almost speechless. _Almost_. Because…

"So, the big tour?" I urge, effectively ending what had definitely been in the top ten most perfect moments of my life. Fuck my life, where did that even come from? And if I'd been mentally kicking myself as those words escaped my lips, that was nothing compared to how I felt when I saw the look on his face. But I was too ashamed to draw any extra attention to what I'd done, so I let it slide and hoped he'd realize it was all down to being unable to deal with his compliment and the intensity of the moment. I never knew I was emotionally stunted, as far as I was aware it hadn't been an issue for me in the past, unless I'd been drifting along in blissful ignorance.

What the hell was Edward Cullen doing to me?

**Thanks for reading, please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I know! Two updates in a week? Go me! :P Thanks to everyone who stuck with me during the update dry spell x**

**I've been spending a lot of time listening to an artist called Lewis Watson while I've been writing this, his music seems to fit the story perfectly and if you listen to the lyrics of 'Into the Wild' it could have been written for these two. Check him out!**

**Disclaimer – All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

**Chapter 5**

**EPoV**

The sun had long since sunk below the horizon and plunged the sky into a deep, cloudy blackness by the time Bella was ready to leave.

"Do you have plans tomorrow?" I ask her as I walk her back along the headland to the cottage, by the light of the torch app on my phone. An actual torch is definitely top of my next shopping list, I decide as I adjust my grip on it. The path is wide here and we can walk easily side by side, at least.

"I'd like to go for a run at some point, but other than that, no," she replies. "Oh, and I'll come for my car."

"There's no hurry, it's fine where it is," I tell her yet again. Morning had run into lunch, then afternoon into dinner. She offered to cook and I'd accepted as I opened the first of several beers for us. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a day like this; unhurried and in good company. Because that's exactly what this girl was. She was 'normal' and unaffected by all of the shit that almost everyone else I knew was branded by. She didn't look at me with expectation, because she had none; she didn't know anything about me, and that in itself was worth so much. I'd caught her eyeing me curiously a few times, but I guess that was to be expected when she knew that I was in the public eye; but then we'd talk and she'd seem to forget again as we fell into easy conversation.

It had taken her a while to thaw after I freaked her out with my 'you're beautiful' declaration. I'm not one for cheesy lines; hell, I've never even _needed_ to use a line on a girl, they're usually the ones giving them to me - but when the sun broke through and lit up her face like a fucking angel, I was gone. And in my absence, my mouth opened and let go of the words that had formed as the image of her had lit _me_ up inside.

She didn't run, she didn't challenge me, she just acted as though the whole thing hadn't happened, which confused me more. This was unknown territory to me, being in my raw state; vulnerable and scared. And now she was making me actually begin to wonder if I'd imagined the whole damn thing. I was on the verge of reassuring myself that it had all been in my head as I led the way out of the room, when she glanced up at me and a blush coloured her cheeks. It was fucking adorable, like a Disney moment, and I realized then that she just hadn't known how to react. She wasn't a super-confident celebrity wannabe tottering around in lycra dresses and skyscraper heels. She hadn't spent three years on a catwalk or being photographed on red carpets. She didn't spend her evenings singing and dancing to crowds of thousands on arena stages. She was just a _normal_ girl.

And yet she was so much more.

"So do you want to hang out again tomorrow?" I ask her as we walk the garden path to the cottage, triggering the security light. She laughs and I stop walking, tucking my phone back in my pocket now I no longer need it. She stops too and turns to face me, a smile on her face as I throw her my best mock 'offended' look. "What's so funny?" I demand, keeping up the act.

"You. You've brought yourself down here to be alone, but you obviously hate being by yourself," she challenges, adding a raised eyebrow to the smile. She's so right.

"I do not," I argue, fighting a smile.

"You do too. You'll be back in London before the end of the week," she says, and I know she's wrong, because for the next two weeks at least, I'm going nowhere. I've decided that I'll cast her as my co-star and play at being ordinary, because if today is anything to go by, then I may be addicted to it.

"Nope, there's no way that's happening," I say. Bella smiles smugly, as though she knows she's right. "Ok, do you want to bet on it?" I ask.

"Well that depends what I get if I win." She's flirting now, all big eyes, mouth pulled up in a smile and the way she's standing with one leg bent and her foot up on its toes. I'm pretty sure it's a result of the beer - and I'm also sure that she has no idea she's doing it.

"It doesn't matter, because you're not going to win," I reply, not even bothering to fight my smile now as I take a step closer to her, put my arm around her and walk her to the door.

"You're going out of your mind already or you wouldn't have been banging on my door at seven a.m." she bites back. "Admit it, you can't stand to be alone."

We're at the door now and she's leaning back against it with a lazy look of alcohol-induced contentment which I imagine mirrors my own as I rest against the side of the porch in front of her.

"Ok, you're right," I concede. "I hate being alone. So when I win, you have to stay after your two weeks are up to keep me company."

"Well I only have the cottage booked for two weeks, so I'm not sure…" She tails off and then looks up at me with realization. "But why am I worrying about that? It's not as though you're going to win anyway."

"You can stay with me at Trelandow," I tell her. She's so clearly convinced that she's going to win that she just waves her hand in the air dismissively, making me chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Loser." She giggles and the sound does things to me that I'm not expecting. "I'll ask again, what do I win?"

"What do you want to win?" I ask, placing my fingers behind a piece of her hair that has come forwards and feeling the silkiness of it before I place it gently back over her shoulder.

"Uhhh, let me see…" She bites her bottom lip and turns her eyes upwards as she thinks. "Ha! I know! Holidays at Trelandow whenever I want." She's bouncing a little with excitement now.

"Deal," I say, offering my hand. She clearly loves the house, it was obvious this morning when I showed her around that it had worked its magic on her. Bella's still grinning like the Cheshire Cat as she turns to unlock the door. "So I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask her. She turns.

"Yeah, ok." She steps through the door and turn to face me. "Goodnight," she says as she begins to close the door.

"Bella?" I call, and she opens it again and looks out expectantly. "You're making this too easy for me, you know." I pull my best crooked grin out of the bag and offer her a wave of my hand as I turn away.

* * *

"Hey," Bella greets me breathlessly as she comes to a stop in front of me. She lifts her sports bottle to her lips and takes a long drink. I watch her throat entranced, as she swallows the liquid down. As she lowers the bottle she offers me a big smile.

"What's that smile for?" I ask, feeling my own lips automatically turn up to match hers. She shrugs.

"No reason, I'm just in a good mood. I think it's the sunshine." I glance up at the clear pale blue sky. It's a cold day, but the sun is bright and it's pretty still for this stretch of coast, the faint breeze catching the few loose hairs that have escaped Bella's ponytail and lifting them lazily. "I'm surprised to see you out here," she tells me. "Did you get lonely up there all on your own?" She's teasing me as she nods up from the beach to the visible outline of Trelandow standing on the cliff-top above us.

"Maybe just a little," I reply, mocking myself now. I'd happened to be standing out on the balcony having a cigarette when I saw her set off for her run and decided I'd wander down to the sand to meet her when she arrived back. It had been a good decision, I thought to myself as I got a closer view of her flushed face, exhilarated by the combination of exercise and fresh, early winter air.

"You should join me next time," she offers. I look down at my jeans and converse.

"Yeah, I'm not really sure I'd get far like this," I say. "I didn't exactly pack for all eventualities when I left London. Which leads me to my next question." She looks at me expectantly. "Could I use your washing machine? I'm going to have to order one."

"Do you really think it's worth it when you'll be going home so soon?" she asked, smiling devilishly.

"I think you'll find I already _am _home," I reply, projecting my best air of innocence.

"Whatever you say. And yes, you can use the washing machine. Did you want to grab your stuff now? I mean, I'd hate to send you home alone again, I'd worry about you rocking in a corner or something." We're climbing the steep stone steps back up the cliff now. Bella's in front of me and I only realise that I've been too distracted by the perfect lycra-clad view right in front of my face to reply when she stops and looks back.

"Sorry! I was miles away," I say, actually feeling bad for being caught looking at her ass. Where the hell did this conscience suddenly spring up from? Jasper would piss himself if he could see me. "Yeah, now's good."

I'd like to say that as she carries on climbing I avert my eyes, but newly-found conscience or not, I'm not that strong and my inner-gentleman heaves a virtual sigh of relief when we finally reach the top.

With the washing machine on and a mug of coffee in my hand, I'm sitting at Bella's dining table as she showers upstairs. The ringing of my phone distracts me from the paternity test results about to be read out on the trashy morning show that's playing on the TV in the far corner of the living room.

"Hey Jas," I greet my best friend after I slide my finger across the screen to answer the call.

"Aah, you do answer your phone sometimes then?" he says sarcastically but with a trace of humour.

"Yeah, sorry, the signal's a bit patchy down here," I lie as I glance guiltily around the room.

"Leading me nicely on to why I called. Where the fuck are you, man?" he demands.

"Cornwall," I say, trying to keep my voice normal.

"Cornwall," he repeats back, an audible trace of disbelief in his voice. "Not Ibiza?" he asks, knowing that I've been known to vanish to a quiet place we know with good, discreet contacts for mind-altering substances.

"No, Cornwall."

"It's November."

"Yes."

"Who in their right mind runs away in November and stays in the UK?" Jasper asks rhetorically. He has a penchant for stifling heat, cocktails by the pool and girls in bikinis, I should have known he wouldn't get it.

"I… " I hesitate. "I have a place down here. I've not been for a while and so I decided I would."

"And this is because of all that shit the Sunday World printed?" he asks. I sigh.

"Jas, they had pictures of me, I can't exactly deny it."

"Hang on, back up. You have a fucking place down there? How come I didn't know this?" I don't reply immediately and he's silent too before… "Shit. Your dad?"

"Same place," I confirm with a soft sigh.

"Edward, I'm not sure you being alone there is good for you—, hang on a minute."

"I'm not alone," I tell him on impulse. But he's already talking to somebody else in the background and doesn't hear me.

"I've got to go, they're calling me back to set. I'll ring you later," he tells me.

"See you, Jas," I say before ending the call. I love my friend, but he has it frustratingly easy; a steady job on a popular TV series and an army of fans that ensures he'll never be fired. Oh, and a new string of casting calls from Hollywood lined up for summer.

"Everything ok?" Bella asks as she walks into the living room looking perfect in skinny jeans and a t-shirt. How anybody could think orange skin and hair extensions was a better look than this, I have no idea. Trust me, there's nothing enticing about waking up next to a girl whose fake eyelashes are stuck to her cheek and eyebrows are smudged across her forehead. I'd know.

"Yeah, just a call from my friend, Jasper," I tell her. For some reason it's left me feeling a little flat.

"Is he famous too?" she asks.

"Yeah, he is. Jasper Whitlock? He's in Soldier Boy. I know it's shown in the U.S. but I'm not sure what channel."

"I know it," she says, sounding impressed. "Wow. So Jasper's a friend of yours?"

"Yep," I tell her.

"Didn't he have a thing with Tanya Denali?" she asks. I laugh. Loudly.

"Ha! He wishes! Don't believe everything you read in the papers, Bella," I tell her, still chuckling as I remember Jasper's reaction to that particular story. He just about pissed his pants, he was so excited that she'd know he existed.

I slide Bella's coffee over towards her. She sits down opposite me and cradles it between her hands, thanking me. "So," I begin. "On my list of things to do today is buy a washing machine and arrange some proper internet access at the house."

"And how are you going to do that?" she asks. It's a genuine question given the fact that I haven't actually been able to go out in public for three days now.

"I'll order the washer on my phone and I'll have to check about the broadband with Trish. I'm not actually sure who pays the bills." I take a drink from my mug and when I look back up, Bella's sitting looking at him with something resembling disbelief.

"You don't know who pays the bills?" she asks.

"Well, obviously it's our money, I just mean I'm not sure who sorts all that shit out," I explain, in what I think is a perfectly reasonable way.

"When you say 'our' money...?" Her head is tilted to the side and to be honest, this isn't looking all that positive. I'm not sure where she's going with this, but I can hear the vague sound of alarm bells sounding in the distance.

"Cullen money," I say.

"From _your _bank account?" she asks. This is all getting a bit personal.

"Well, no, technically the account is my mum's, but—"

"The same mum who you've not spoken to in over ten years?"

"I've only got one mum, Bella," I say, feeling the irritation beginning to rise.

"Yes, you have," she says, looking at me meaningfully.

And I lose it.

I stand abruptly, my chair banging against the wall behind me. I feel bad as Bella's eyes widen as she looks up at me towering over her.

"You know what, Bella? You know fuck all about me or my situation! How dare you sit there and judge me over my relationship with my mother when you know absolutely nothing about any of the shit that went on between us? So you have a mother you can value? Well good for you, because _I_ don't, and don't think that's a decision I made lightly, ok?"

I'm aware that I'm shouting now. And ok, I may be pacing a little too. I stare down at her again and she's looking back at me horrified, and I hate myself for making her look at me that way. What I want most is to apologise, and sit down and make things right with her, and – fucking hell – literally kissing and making up would be amazing, but… I'm so worked up now that there's only one thing I can think about. And it's green and fragrant and sitting in a little bag back at Trelandow.

So, I do the only thing that my fucked up mess of a head can manage right now.

"Fuck this," I spit out, and storm from the house. And when you feel like you've hit the bottom, doesn't something else always come along and knock the final footings out from beneath your feet?

I ignore the ringing of my phone as I make my way angrily back along the cliff-top path, but when I finally do pull my phone out to see who was trying to get hold of me, the words that I read on the screen are enough to make me launch a rock from the ground beside my feet, into the sea below.

**From: Carlisle**

**Edward, you need to get back here for 8.30am tomorrow. Your mother's solicitor has demanded a meeting. **

* * *

**Thanks for reading! **

**I hope you're enjoying the story so far – please take a moment to leave a review **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer – all things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer**

**Chapter 6**

**Edward**

"Aah, the elusive Edward Cullen," Jasper says, a grin pulling up the sides of his mouth as though he's truly pleased to see me. He ushers me into his apartment, slapping me on the back as I pass him. "Couldn't stay away from the city, could you? I knew you'd be back." I ignore him and walk straight through his open-plan living room, into the kitchen area at the far end and grab a glass from a wall cupboard. Placing it down on the worktop, I unscrew the lid from a bottle selected from his extensive whisky collection and pour myself a large measure, knock it back and refill the glass. Jasper laughs behind me. "Things that bad, eh?"

"My mum," I say, by way of explanation.

"Ah." Jasper nods, knowingly.

We've been close friends for a while now and he understands my issues. "I saw the paper, that was some story," he says, and I snort in response.

"She's fucking delusional. I should sue," I tell him, taking a drink from the glass with one hand while I accept the small, ziplock bag that he's holding out to me with the other. "This had better be an improvement on that shit you had last time." Jasper smiles and claps me on the back again.

"Don't worry, my man. I had words with Alec, he won't be pulling that one again; it's been spot-on since."

"I should fucking think so as well, cheeky bastard." I can feel myself getting more agitated, but I can't be entirely sure that it's down to the conversation and not because I'm strung out on wanting to sample the white powder in the bag. I drain and fill the glass again and then make my way over to the sofa while Jasper opens a drawer and pulls out the familiar paraphernalia. I toss the bag onto the table and sit back, letting Jasper sort it out. He's a fucking perfectionist anyway, he whines like a little girl when I do it because it's never right. My knee is bouncing, revealing my impatience as he empties the bag into a pharmaceutical pestle & mortar that he insists on using, and begins grinding it with almost painful deliberation. I look away from him and then squeeze my eyes closed because I can still see his slow movements in my peripheral vision.

Finally, after what feels like about a week, he's satisfied enough to empty it out onto the mirror he keeps for this very purpose, and spends far too much time manoeuvring the powder into neat lines with a credit card before he hands me a cut length of drinks straw from the packet beside him. I sit forward, my face above the lines and the straw at my right nostril as I pinch my left closed. I move smoothly along one line before switching nostrils and repeating with the next. Jasper pulls the mirror towards him and mimics my actions, as I sniff again, eager not to lose any of the coke. And then I determinedly try to force all thoughts of Bella's face as I laid into her this morning, and the desperate guilt that fills me, out of my head, as I wait for the high to find me. Jasper's the king of partying; if anyone can help me to forget the shit-storm I left behind me once again, it's him.

* * *

"Jesus, Edward, you look like hell, what in God's name have you been up to?" Carlisle hisses at me angrily as he pulls me to one side the moment I walk through the door. "Couldn't you have made a _bit_ of an effort?" He looks me up and down, taking in the rumpled clothes I've had on for over twenty-four hours now as I become aware of the crisp suit that _he's_ wearing. "Are you drunk?" he demands.

"No," I reply, honestly. The whisky I downed when I got to Jasper's apartment the night before have long since worn off. He peers closely at me.

"Are you sure? Your eyes are… " His words trail off as realisation suddenly dawns on his face. "Oh, for Christ's sake! Did you learn nothing from the weekend? Honestly, I'm at my wit's end—"

"Carlisle, Edward," a loud, deep voice called across the waiting area. "Do come in." Carlisle shoots me one last angry glance before he turns and follows the man back through the door and into his office. A heavy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. _This isn't looking good_, I decide. _Not good at all. _

*_Making Waves_*

**Bella**

I'm humming to myself, replaying the previous day's argument with Edward in my head as I towel dry my hair, when I think I hear a sound. I pause to see if I'm imagining things. No, there it is again; a banging sound, only louder this time.

"What the hell?" I ask aloud to the empty room.

As I reach the front door, I peer through the small glass window. Framed in the circular opening is Edward, his face thunderous. He has one hand in his hair, and when I notice how white his knuckles are from the strength of his grip, I worry that he is on the verge of ripping it out by the roots. He raises his free hand up, ready to bang on the door again, but then he freezes as his eyes meet mine through the glass.

I turn the key, depress the handle and pull the door open with more force than necessary, angry at the aggression he's meting out on my door. A freezing gust of November wind tears through the doorway, uninvited. I flinch and then shiver involuntarily as it threatens to turn my wet hair into dark brown icicles.

Any thoughts I have about tearing into him over his treatment of the door, die in my head as I take in the expression on his face.

"What's happened?" I ask him, stepping back so he can enter. Despite the way we left things yesterday, he steps forward without the slightest hesitation and veers past me to the right, into the living room where he begins pacing back and forth.

"I've just got back from London," he tells me, his agitation making _me _antsy too. "My mother's fucking solicitor _summoned_ me. I can't believe she's done this." He pauses for a moment but I don't press him for information. "I've forgiven her for everything that she's been responsible for over the years, but I'll never forgive this. Ever."

Still I remain quiet, but when he looks directly at me I raise my eyebrows in a silent question. He immediately deflates and collapses onto the couch behind him, the blue cushions all but devouring him. His hand goes to his hair again and I fight the urge to smack it away as you would with a child with a bad habit.

"She's given me twelve months to get clean. If I can't or don't do it, Trelandow is to be sold and the money will go to the Battersea Dogs' Home." He suddenly begins to laugh a little hysterically. "She can't even stand dogs!" The smile slowly vanishes. "Bitch," he spits out, as he begins patting his pockets down a little frantically. Eventually he pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out, takes one from the pack and shoves it between his lips.

"You can't smoke in here," I remind him as he flicks a flame to life on his lighter.

"I don't give a shit," he snaps back, as he holds the flame to the end of the cigarette.

I sigh, torn as to whether to put my foot down, or just to let it go this once. I decide that given the day he's had and the mood he's in, I won't push it. I can always pass the bill on if I lose my bond on the cottage because of him. I walk through to the kitchen and pick an empty tin can from the recycling box. Back in the living room I hand it to him to use as an ashtray, walk behind the couch and reach up to open the window. Another gust of freezing wind shoots in through the gap I've created, and I flinch, retreating quickly to the far side of the room.

"Would you like a drink?" I ask him as he sits sucking greedily on the cigarette, as though it's supplying life-saving oxygen, rather than compromising his lungs.

"What do you have?" he asks, his voice rough.

"Tea, coffee, orange juice—"

"Whisky," he says, referring, I know, to the bottle that he's seen sitting on the counter in the kitchen.

"Uh…I'm not sure—"

"Do you have any?" he asks, fixing me with a hard stare.

"Well, yes, but—"

"Whisky," he states again. I don't move, looking at him as I list all the reasons in my head why it isn't a good idea giving him alcohol right now. He misunderstands my pause. "Please," he adds.

Oh, what the hell. It's his life, why should I care?

_But you do_.

I'm hearing voices now? Great. I shake my head a little to try and clear it as I turn for the kitchen once more. I take a tumbler down from the top shelf in the cupboard, set it down on the counter and reach for the bottle of amber coloured liquid. I pour it in slowly, leaning back a little so I can see where it reaches on the side of the glass. I stop once I have a modest measure poured.

"Oh, come on, Bella. You can do better than that."

The sudden voice in my ear makes me jump, and I gasp, clapping my free hand to my chest in surprise.

"Never. Do that. Again," I scold him as I will my heart to slow down a little before it thumps clear of my chest.

"Sorry," he mutters as he takes the bottle from me and triples the amount that I had poured out for him.

"Edward." I use my best warning tone on him, but he obviously doesn't care as he stalks back into the living room, glass in one hand and bottle in the other.

"So, yeah," he begins as he settles himself back down onto the couch, placing the bottle on the side table next to him. "As long as I get off the drugs, get tested weekly, complete an alcohol diary and see a counsellor, Trelandow remains mine." He laughs, a hollow sound that makes me wince. "How can a fucking _house _be my Achilles heel?" It's clearly a rhetorical question, so I make no attempt to answer.

"Was your mom there? At the meeting, I mean," I ask, sitting down on the edge of the seat next to him. He scoffs.

"Don't be so bloody ridiculous. She wouldn't have dared to have tried to tell me that to my face. Just as well really. For her, I mean. It would have made me feel a damn sight better if I'd been able to tell her exactly what I thought of her." He takes a drink from his glass, winces as the fiery liquid slips down his throat, and leans his head on the back of the couch. I want to say something to him, but I know he's not going to like it. I open my mouth, and then close it again, changing my mind. After another moment's hesitation, I can't help myself and I fire the words out quickly, before I can choke them back again.

"You don't think that maybe she has your best—"

He sits bolt upright and fixes me with a hard stare that makes me shiver.

"If you're going to suggest that she's come up with this this shit to benefit me in some way, then don't, alright? I know my mother. If anything, it's to ease her own conscience for not giving a toss up to now." He lights another cigarette and turns his head to the side, blowing the smoke out harshly, but away from me at least. I'll freeze my ass off tomorrow, trying to air the place out.

"I'm just saying, maybe it's not such a bad change to be thinking about making, that's all," I tell him, my voice small even to my own ears. I guess I already know the kind of reception my words will receive. I'm right, but despite expecting it, I can't help but flinch back in my seat a little as he leaps to his feet and towers over me.

"You have no fucking idea how my life is, do you?" he asks me loudly. "In fact, you have about as much of an idea as she has." He starts his pacing again, waving the hand around that holds his cigarette. I cringe at the ash dropping all over the rug. "Oh yeah, it all sounds well and good, but where does it leave me if I give everything up? You think I'd have any friends? It's about the only thing I have in fucking common with any of them."

"You'd have the house," I offer.

"Oh, fucking perfect," he spits out. "I can see the front pages now, _Edward Cullen: Cornish Recluse_ and a photo of me with a beard down to my chest as I get the milk in off the step with my cardi and slippers on. What a wonderful prospect. Where do I sign up?" He pauses to flick the cigarette end into the tin can and pour himself another whisky.

My patience is running out.

"Fine. You know what, Edward? You've obviously made your choice, so why are you wasting my time? You may as well just go home and pack your stuff up. If you refuse to help yourself, nobody else can do it for you." I stand and stomp to the front door and pull it open, trying to maintain my stern expression and not flinch at the biting wind as it hits me.

I can see him clearly through the living room doorway, his hand in his hair, pushing it back. The fire has gone from his eyes and I wonder exactly what I said to extinguish it so quickly. He just looks sad now…and I hate it. He looks at the glass in his hand, as though seeing it for the first time, and then bends to set it down on the table, next to the bottle.

"I'm sorry, you're right." He looks at the floor, at the walls; anywhere but at me. "I don't know what I was thinking, coming and dumping all of my problems on you like this. It wasn't fair. I'll get out of your way."

I'm frozen, my heart breaking for the equally broken man in front of me, as he approaches. Just as he reaches the doorway, an image appears from the recesses of my memory, and I decide that I can't let him leave like this. I slam the door closed in front of him and move to stand in front of it so he can't leave.

"I'll help you," I tell him, decisively. His head shoots up and his eyes fix on mine, curiosity flickering there now, replacing the cool sadness and the burning anger of before. "If you'll try, I mean."

"Forget it," he says. I'm not giving her the satisfaction of ruling my life."

"Do you want to keep the damn house, or not?" I ask firmly. I see a spark of interest in his face and seize the moment. "If you'll try, I'll help you," I repeated.

"You'd do that? For me?" he asks, his words slow and his voice a little shaky. It's the first time I've seen his confidence dip so low.

"Yes." _No._ I'd be doing it for myself, but he doesn't need to know that. I stood by before; thought I couldn't make a difference. Maybe I was right, but I'd never know now. It was too late for Angela, but maybe I could help Edward? "But you can't let me down. I mean it."

His shoulders visibly slump, but he maintains eye contact.

"I promise I'll _try_ not to," he tells me. "But I won't lie to you; I can't promise that I won't."

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer**

**Chapter 7**

"I promise I'll _try_ not to, but I won't lie to you; I can't promise that I won't," I tell her honestly, because beneath the petulant child exterior that my mother always brings out in me, I _do_ really want to do this. As much as I hate to admit it, she knew exactly what she was doing when she chose her terms. There's no way I can just sit back and watch Trelandow go to the dogs, in the most literal sense. At the same time though, I've seen enough to know that the only way to beat a problem is to acknowledge it's a problem in the first place and change because youwant to. Not society, not your agent and definitely not your mother. _You. _

And that's where Bella comes in. Something about this girl that I've only just met makes me want more. My definition of 'more' has changed lately it seems. The dictionary defines it as 'a greater amount'. I'd have agreed with that in the past; it had always meant a greater amount of the things I already had – more money, more fame, more status, more alcohol, more drugs… more fucked up. I was the man who'd scoff at the notion of 'less is more', but I get it now. I don't know why I get it, but I know what triggered the change. Standing here, just feet away from her, I have absolutely no interest in the life that I tasted again briefly last night. When a leggy blonde is sitting on your lap offering herself to you, and all you can think of is a small brunette who you left more than likely hating your guts, something significant has shifted in your unconscious mind.

She looks at me and I can tell by her eyes that she's having an internal struggle with my inability to tell her what she needs to hear.

"Look," I tell her, stepping forward and reaching out to lay my hand on her arm, because I just _need _to touch her. "Don't worry about it. You're only here for a couple of weeks, you don't need to be dealing with my shit." Her gaze has been fixed on my hand where it touches her, but now she looks up into my face. "Thanks for the offer though," I say. "I really do appreciate it. You meet a lot of…" I pause while I think of the best words to use. "Less than genuine people in the circles I move in. I've got friends I've known for five years that I know wouldn't help me out, even if I begged them." I pull my hand slowly away, fighting the urge to use it to draw her closer.

"Well, they don't deserve your friendship," she tells me, apparently less affected by the loss of contact than I am. "You should cut those people from your life." She's right and I tell her so. She nods, and there's nothing at all condescending or smug about it, it's just a simple acknowledgement that I've listened to what she said.

"I can stay longer than two weeks," she says. "If… you want me to, I mean. I have nothing to go back to that won't wait." It was the last thing I'd expected.

"I couldn't ask you to stay, for me," I say, desperate to do just that.

"I'm not expecting you to ask me," she replies, tilting her chin up in a move that tells me she means every word. "Just say that you don't mind if I do stay." I'm silent for a moment, processing everything.

"I… don't mind," I murmur eventually, because she's looking directly at me, and there's something about her eyes that makes me lose myself.

"You're sure?" she asks, a fleeting worried look clouding her face for a split second as her teeth press down onto her full, lower lip, turning the dark pink flesh there, several shades paler.

And of course I'm sure. I'm sure about it all, and right here, in this moment, if she asked me again to promise I wouldn't let her down, I'd do it, because really, how could I possibly hurt this girl when it's in my power not to?

"I'm sure," I say, with clear conviction.

"Ok." She looks at me for a while, her head inclined to the side as though she's weighing me up. "Have you eaten?" she asks at last.

"Not since yesterday," I admit, watching the annoyance skim across her face.

"Come on." She puts her hand just below my chest and steers me to the side so she can pass.

As I sit at the table eating the pasta that Bella just threw together so apparently effortlessly for me, I realise that I'm now completely calm for the first time since I stormed out of here yesterday. I can only hope that my mother never recognises the fact that Bella is like some kind of drug to me and prohibits her presence in my life too.

"You haven't slept either, have you?" she asks me as I place my knife and fork down on the empty plate. And with those words, exhaustion promptly washes over me. I scrub my hand down my face.

"No," I say. She pushes her chair back and comes around the table to me. I obediently stand when she reaches my chair and tugs at my sleeve. Without letting go, she leads me back through the living room and up the stairs, pausing outside a door on the landing. She looks at me as she pushes the door open and I can't resist raising my eyebrows and smiling cheekily at her. I guess there's still a little of the old me that remains in her company. Bella rolls her eyes.

"Sleep!" she says, pointing at the bed. It's clearly the spare room and not her own, I deduce from the lack of stuff in here. I quash the disappointment I feel. Sleep is all I'm capable of at the moment, but snuggling into her pillow would have been a welcome way of getting there. I walk into the room, finding as I reach the bed and turn back around that she has already closed the door behind me. Now that the prospect of rest is so close, I can barely walk without stumbling as I move to draw the curtains closed, shutting out the dim November daylight. I strip down to my boxers and t-shirt, dumping each item on a chair in the corner as I remove them, then I slide beneath the soft duvet, sighing in ecstatic relief as I let the soft, sweet-smelling fabric of the bedclothes envelop me, before sleep does the same.

When I eventually begin to rise from the depths of the best sleep I can remember having in a long time, I realise that the house is silent and dark. Shoving the covers back as I stretch, I get out and cross the room to where I'm guessing the door is. I grope for the handle and find it quickly. It turns smoothly and silently as I press it and the door opens just as quietly. I need to use the toilet and so I walk towards the closest door, pushing slightly on it. It opens, but straight away I see this is not the bathroom. In the soft glow of the small bedside light, I can see that the floral covers on the bed are rumpled as though somebody just got out of it and a book sits open and face down on top. The smell in here is all Bella, and if I wasn't concerned about the possibility of pissing myself, I may have been tempted to climb under those covers and be cocooned in her scent. Instead I move on to the next door, grateful to see it's the right one this time.

As I exit the bathroom and make my way onto the stairs I know that Bella will be down here and also that she'll know I'm awake thanks to the flush of the toilet. I'm sure I was right from the unsurprised look on her face as she looks up when I walk into the living room. She's coming out of the kitchen with her hands wrapped around a mug of something hot, given the steam that's rising from it. She looks cosy in a baggy pair of faded flannel pyjamas. I notice her eyes wander down to my bare legs, but she seems unfazed as her eyes rise again to meet mine.

"Hey," she greets me, her voice as soft as the hint of a smile that plays on her lips.

"Hi." My voice is rough from sleep – and I'm guessing the general abuse of my body for the past couple of days. I clear my throat and try to fight back the rising urge for a cigarette, knowing it will be freezing outside. "What time is it?" I ask her.

"Three a.m.," she replies. "You slept for thirteen hours." She smiles and I'm guessing it's at the shocked look on my face. "Do you want some warm milk?" she asks nodding towards her mug.

"No thanks," I tell her. "I'd love a cup of tea though." She turns to go back into the kitchen. I catch up with her in the doorway and place my hands on her hips from behind, shifting her slightly so I can squeeze past. "I'll make it," I tell her, smiling as she looks up at me, her face giving away her surprise at the contact as she still grasps her mug.

"You had some missed calls," she says as I fill the kettle. I turn to see her point towards the table in the other room where I left my phone. I shrug my shoulders, unwilling to let anything interfere with the good mood I've woken up in.

"I'm not even going to look," I tell her. "It's not as if I can ring anybody back now anyway."

We slip into a comfortable silence as Bella gets everything out of the cupboards and milk from the fridge, placing them back when I've used them.

"It's cold down here," she says with a barely noticeable shiver and her shoulders scrunched up. "I can't sleep. I was only reading, if you want to sit with me a while?" She indicates upwards with a nod of her head.

"Ok," I agree, knowing there's no chance I'll be going back to sleep either.

I follow Bella upstairs and into the warmth of her bedroom as she stands back to let me pass her before closing the door behind us. She wanders over to the bed and sets her mug down on the bedside table while I hang back uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. Bella has no such qualms, as she sets about plumping and propping the pillows up on both sides of the bed and then settles back against one half while motioning to me to do the same on the other. She pulls the duvet down as I approach so, as I sit, I slide my legs underneath it and pull the covers back up to my waist, nervously clutching my tea. This is such foreign territory to me and I have absolutely no idea what to do or how to act. I've been in bed with plenty of girls, but never like this and never with a girl that I was so keen to do the right thing by.

"So, you went back to London?" she asks. I turn my head, feeling a sudden thrill when I see how close she is to me. She's sitting up with her legs crossed beneath the covers, her body angled slightly towards mine and a playful look on her face.

"Yeah," I reply, hoping she's not going to drag the whole meeting up again right now.

"I guess that means I won the bet then. Although I'll admit I didn't expect to win it _quite_ as quickly as that; I thought you'd make it a little bit closer to the end of the week." She's looking at me with a smug smile.

"You did not win the bet," I scoff and she raises her eyebrows at me. I sigh. "I didn't go to London by choice, I was told I had to go. Also, I didn't stay. As soon as I'd done what I had to do I got straight in my car and drove back here." She's pouting adorably, and if I hadn't just been asleep for so long, I may have been brave enough to lean down and find out how those pouty lips felt against my own mouth. She hasn't replied and when I drag my eyes from her lips to her eyes, I see that she's looking at me with an expression that I've seen on the faces of girls in the past.

"Yeah, well I'm glad you did," she says quietly, ducking her head and letting her hair fall in front of her face. I reach down and gently move the dark brown strands to one side to find that her cheeks have turned a deep, rosy pink .

"Me too," I tell her. "And I really don't care whether I won the bet or not, because my prize was for you to agree to stay here longer, and you've already agreed to do that."

She smiles at me and I return it. When I look away my attention is drawn to her book, still on the bed. I pick it up, study the front cover and read the back cover. She begins to tell me about it and we fall into a conversation about our favourite books. Around ten minutes in, she yawns for the first of several times and eventually slips down the bed so her head is on the pillow. She carries on talking, but I can see her eyelids are growing heavy and eventually my questions receive no answer. I take the duvet in my hand and gently pull it up over her shoulders so she doesn't get cold, and then, memorising the page she had left it open at, I turn to the first page of her book and begin to read.

Worried that Bella might feel uncomfortable at finding me in her bed when she wakes up, I read until I feel drowsy again at five a.m. and then quietly wander back to the guest room and into the bed I vacated earlier. The space lacks the warmth of Bella's room, despite the heavy clanking in the heating system as the radiators come to life, and my whole body craves the palpable comfort of the room across the landing. I'm tempted for a while to get up again and just go back over there, but I resist. A thought hits me, and I hope that she doesn't think I left because I didn't want to be with her. I torture myself with this until sleep finally draws me under, again.

"Edward?" I'm disorientated as my name cuts into my sleep and pulls me rudely back into a drowsy state on the edge of consciousness. "Edward!"

I manage to force my eyes open enough to see Bella standing in the doorway, waving something. I squint, trying to focus on what she's doing. "Sorry," she says. "I didn't want to wake you but I thought you might want to know, you just had a text from…" She looks down at the screen. "'Jas', to say he's an hour away from here."

I'm beyond confused now. I reach a hand out to her and she walks across the room and hands the phone to me. The screen is locked and when I go to my messages I see that it's still unread; she'd only repeated what she could see on the screen. Along with the message were several missed calls; one from Carlisle and the rest from Jasper. Piecing together the voicemails he'd left and texts he'd sent, I found he'd been ringing to suggest coming to visit. When he'd had no answer from me, he decided to come down regardless.

For the first time ever, I wasn't pleased to hear from my friend or excited to see him. This felt like a huge invasion of my privacy . The man I was in London, was a different person to the one I was here. Trelandow, Bella… both of them were personal and I didn't want to share them, even with my best friend.

"Fuck," I groan, dropping the phone and letting my head flop back onto the pillow.

"What?" she asks, a frown pulling at her forehead.

"I just really don't need visitors at the minute." _Especially ones who are likely to arrive with sizeable amounts of recreational drugs, _I add silently. I close my eyes for a moment, still partially paralysed by sleep. "I suppose I'd better get home and wait for him," I say reluctantly. When I open my eyes and look at Bella again, I've already decided that I want her there too. If she's going to help me then having her around when temptation is at its strongest in these early days, will definitely help. "Will you come over when you're dressed?" I ask her. I try to sound nonchalant, but a slight note of desperation clings to the words.

"Is that an invitation or a query?" she asks me. I push the covers back.

"It's a cry for help," I tell her with a wry smile. She smiles too, although hers has definite traces of sadness.

"Ok, I'll try and get there before he does," she tells me.

"Thanks," I say as she backs out of the room and closes the door, allowing me to get up and pull my clothes on.

I have no idea how this will play out. Jasper will think straight away that I'm sleeping with her. He'll think this because he knows me, and that's what the 'me' he knows… or think he knows… or _knew_, would have been doing. I've never kept anything from Jas before, other than the fact we still own the house down here. Now he's suddenly going to find out I've spent the last three days being swept off my feet by this girl who doesn't even know it herself yet. Jasper will know though, he's got some kind of sixth sense when it comes to this shit. I give him ten minutes tops before he realises the strength of my feelings for her, maybe an extra five to realise there's no physical side to the relationship… yet. And then… then he's going to get pissed off that I never mentioned a word about her to him.

_Maybe I could just hide out here; he'd never find me, _I think. The thought is tempting, but I guess it's time to start acting like the responsible adult I'm trying to prove I am. It's time to test just how strong I really am and how much Trelandow means to me.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer – All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer**

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**Chapter 8**

"You should just tell him. If he's your best friend then he'll understand," I say as I watch Edward pace back and forth across the airy room with the sea a stunning backdrop through the window behind him.

"I should," he says, more to himself than me it seems, as he comes to an abrupt standstill. I'm sitting on the couch, nibbling nervously on my thumb. He's been like this for the fifteen minutes we've been back at Trelandow and the tension he's emanating is beginning to get to me now. "I should just tell him the whole story." He looks at me and I nod in encouragement. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the doorbell rings at that exact moment. His eyes dart in the direction of the hallway, and then with a quick look back at me, he heads in that direction.

I stand… I fidget. I hear the door open. I sit… I fidget. I hear voices. I stand again. I straighten my sweater and look up in time to see Edward walking back into the room with two guys who I instantly recognise. One is definitely Jasper Whitlock, the other I only know as Corporal Daniel Richards, the name of his Soldier Boy character.

"This is Bella, she's my neighbour here," Edward tells his friends. "Bella, this is Jasper and Pete."

I can tell Jasper is surprised to see me, especially as he follows his 'nice to meet you, Bella' with raised eyebrows at Edward. Pete doesn't seem particularly shocked, but then he's more pre-occupied with looking me up and down before flashing me a warm smile and a 'hi'. I'm not the only one to notice either; when I look back at Edward I catch him glaring at Pete. I can't help the thrill that shoots through me at his reaction. Maybe the fact he left my bed during the night doesn't mean he isn't interested in me, after all. Or maybe he's just a jealous a-hole; the type that doesn't want you but doesn't want anybody else to have you either.

Jasper and Pete gush about the house and the views for a few minutes and I try to act normal as I stand in the same room as people I've only ever seen on TV screens and in magazines, until Edward cuts to the chase.

"So, what exactly are you doing here?" he asks. I sense the sting in his words, and swivelling my head to look at his face, I see the familiar harsh glint in his eye that I've felt directed at me. Jasper it seems isn't nearly as intimidated by it as I am. He laughs and collapses down onto the couch.

"I was worried about you. You definitely weren't yourself the other night and then when you didn't answer your phone I decided I'd come down myself and make sure you're ok. I thought you were coming round before you came back down here?"

"Yeah, well my mother pulled her most spectacular deed of fuckery yet, out of the bag, so I just came straight back. Trust me, I wasn't good company." He sneaks a glance at me and his expression close to one of embarrassment.

Edward looks as though he wants to say more, but then he glances at Pete, who has his back to us as he looks out of the window. I see Jasper catch the move too and a frown pulls at his brow.

"Hey, Pete," Jasper calls. "Is there any chance you could grab the bags from the car?" Pete turns and I see him glance between the two men. I think he senses Jasper is trying to get rid of him.

"Yeah, no problem," he says with a shrug, already making for the door.

"I'll help," I say, following him. Pete flashes me a disarming smile, while Edward glares at me. I ignore him, I don't feel it's my place to sit and listen while he tells his best friend everything that has been happening.

Pete holds the door open so I can walk through before he closes it behind us. Instead of going straight to the car he wanders off down the slope towards the lawn, zipping up his jacket and then pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket. He slips one confidently between his lips, turning to offer the pack to me.

"No, thanks," I say with a smile, holding my hand up. He stuffs them back in his pocket and then wraps his hands around it while he lights it. It's not a bad day for November; it's dry at least, but there's a chilling breeze and I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I'd picked up my jacket on the way out. Pete looks at me with some concern.

"You can go back inside if you like, I'll manage the stuff," he tells me. I glance up at the wraparound windows of the living room in the house above us, catching a glimpse of Edward pacing again. He's talking, saying something to Jasper, and then he looks out and down at us, scowling. He turns away and I can see him gesturing as he continues what looks like a rant. There's no way I'm walking back into the middle of that.

"It's ok, I'll stay," I say to Pete. He smirks at me and it suddenly strikes me that he probably thinks I've come out here to follow him, rather than to give Edward and Jasper some space. Mortification flows through me and I try to set the record straight. "It looks as though Edward hasn't finished talking to Jasper, I'll wait a while longer." Pete takes a long drag on his cigarette and blows the smoke out gently.

"So," he begins, cutting off to finish exhaling. "Are you Cullen's latest shag then?"

I'm no prude, but his forthrightness shocks me. Regardless, I'm determined not to give him the satisfaction of showing it.

"We're friends," I say. And then in challenge to his raised eyebrows, "_Just _friends."

"Ok, whatever you say," he tells me, making no attempt to use a tone of voice that hides the fact he thinks I'm lying. I know I should care less whether he believes me or not, but for some reason it's pissed me off.

"I don't care if you don't believe me, it's true," I tell him defiantly. Taking a final drag, Pete throws his cigarette down and blows the smoke roughly from his mouth and then turns and takes a couple of steps so he's right in front of me. Up close he's even more handsome than he looks from a distance. His hair is cropped close to his head and a dark shadow covers the lower half of his face. He has startling blue eyes that are fixed on me with an intensity that makes me hold my breath. Reaching up, he cups my face with his hand and leans down until his mouth is only inches from mine.

"I didn't say I didn't believe you, did I?" he asks, the remains of the cigarette smoke still present on his breath as it touches my face. I have no way of forming a coherent sentence now, so I gently move my head from side to side, finally managing a whispered _'no'._

"Pete! I thought you were bringing the fucking bags in! I'll just do it myself, shall I?"

I jump at the sudden raised voice, pulling my head away from his hand as I whip it in the direction of the front door and Jasper's rant. I catch sight of Edward's outline in the doorway before he turns and vanishes back inside the house. Beside me I hear Pete laugh softly. I don't bother looking at him before I turn and walk briskly after Edward.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I hear Jasper ask Pete as I move out of earshot, not even tempted to stay and hear his reply.

Edward is sitting on the couch in the living room when I walk in.

"Hey," I greet him. His response is a sad smile. He opens his mouth as though he's going to speak a couple of times, but never actually gets any words out. Finally, he sighs and begins.

"I know I have no right to tell you what to do," he begins, reaching out and wrapping his fingers softly around my wrist so he can pull me down beside him. I feel a frown forming a knot between my eyebrows. "So I'm going to ask you, instead. Bella, promise me you'll stay away from Pete." I move to speak but he interrupts. "I don't mean altogether; I've known the guy a couple of years now and he's a decent enough friend, but… that, outside just then. It's not a good idea, trust me."

"I wasn't going to… I wouldn't…" I'm shaking my head to prove my point, because I'm suddenly terrified that he might actually think I was considering something with Pete back there. "I was telling him that you and I are just friends and he didn't believe me and I don't actually have any idea how he got as close as that…" I'm flapping and he's looking at me with a strange expression on his face, but he says nothing, which is how Jasper and Pete find us when they come into the room.

"Let's get out of here for a while," Jasper says, looking at Edward and me. Edward adopts a pained expression at the suggestion, of course. "You know, you're not doing yourself any favours by hiding away," Jasper says to him, irritation clear in his voice. "The press and public will just draw their own conclusions regardless, all you'll end up doing is driving yourself mad inside these four walls. Now get your bloody coat and let's go, I didn't come all this way to sit here."

I feel like applauding. Even Edward actually looks like he's taking notice. He grumbles and curses a couple of times, but then to his credit, he drags himself to his feet and does as he's told. I shoot Jasper a look of approval and he smiles and winks in response.

"He gets like this sometimes," he leans and whispers to me when Edward leaves the room. "You've just got to give him a kick up the arse." I doubt I'd be able to get the kind of response Jasper got, but I file his advice away regardless. "Come on," he says, guiding me with his hand on my back. "Pete's driving. I'm not into hiding away, but there's no point drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves in Edward's Z4."

Pete drives a top of the range, Range Rover. It's lovely and clearly cost a small fortune, but it's dark grey and as such doesn't stand out too much. Jasper climbs into the passenger seat and Edward and I climb up into the back.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Edward asks as Pete pulls out of the driveway. He's looking out through the blacked out windows, and even though he's aiming for a casual air, I can tell he's not happy about this.

"Lunch," Jasper says, not bothering to look back at him. Edward turns to me.

"Are you ok with this?" he asks in a low voice. "If we get recognised this could end up shit. Best case scenario, we get interrupted by people wanting autographs and photos; worst case, we end up with cameras in our faces and the pictures in the papers and all over the internet. If you're not ok with that you need to say now and we'll drop you back home." He sounds so serious that a laugh bubbles up inside me. We're in Cornwall in November, does he really expect me to believe there's a chance we could be pounced on by the paparazzi? At the sound of my laugh, Jasper turns to look at me.

"Yeah, he's not joking, B," he says, flashing me the kind of smile you'd give a small child you were trying to humor. "It happens and it can be a pain in the fucking arse." The smile falls from my face and I turn to look at Edward just as he turns back to look out of the window.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just… I can't believe you'd get papp'd here."

"Bella, I ended up with my photo in the paper when I was just in Jas's apartment, remember? How likely do you think I thought that was when I walked in there that day? Trust me, no-where's safe."

We fall silent and I'm glad when Pete and Jasper launch into an amusing story about something that happened on the Soldier Boy set that even has Edward laughing. Ten minutes after leaving the house, we're parking on an almost deserted parking lot on the harbour in the nearest town. I know from experience that during the summer months, the chances of finding a parking space here are virtually zero. I wonder whether crowds make it more or less likely for a well-known personality to be harassed? Maybe I'll ask Edward later. As he climbs down out of the car, he pulls a dark-colored beanie from his pocket and slips it onto his head. I glance around, suddenly nervous, but there are very few people about and definitely nobody paying any attention to _us_.

Jasper says something I don't hear to Pete, who points to the pub on the opposite side of the harbour. Jasper leads us confidently round to it, passing empty and closed shops which are clearly aimed at the tourist trade. When we finally reach the pub, Jasper and Pete walk in first. Edward stands back to let me enter before him and offers a small smile that kind of rocks my world when I thank him. There are a few people in the bar, mainly locals if I were to guess, although at least one couple look as though they may be visitors. Nobody bothers looking in our direction as we walk in. The barman raises an eyebrow and clearly recognises them, although he doesn't say anything. We take our drinks over to a table in the corner and sit down to peruse the lunch menu. None of us have even decided what we're going to order, when out of the corner of my eye, I notice a teenage girl a few tables away, obviously trying hard to discreetly take a picture of us on her phone – and failing miserably at the discreet part.

"That girl's taking photos," I lean in to say quietly to Edward. He turns and smiles at me. It's a small smile and comes nowhere close to reaching his eyes.

"I did warn you," he tells me, placing his hand on top of mine, which rests on the space between us on the bench seat. He's right, he did, but actually sitting here under scrutiny from strangers is bothering me a lot more than I'd thought it would.

A pretty young waitress approaches to take our food order. I can't help but be amused by how flustered she becomes when Pete smiles and winks as he thanks her, causing her to drop her pen on the floor. I also notice he gets a good look down her shirt when she bends to pick it up. I'm beginning to sense where Edward's earlier warning was coming from. I look up at Edward, and almost as if he can read my mind he gives me a look that clearly says '_I told you so'_. I nod my head and roll my eyes until a snort from Jasper makes me look his way, across the table.

"That is the freakiest shit I've ever seen," he says, shaking his head. Pete's watching the waitress's retreating ass.

"It looks ok from where I'm sitting," he says, finally turning back to us as she disappears into the kitchen. Jasper tsks loudly and whacks his friend in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Not her, dickhead, these two." He gestures to Edward and me. "And that freaky fucking silent conversation shit they've got going on." Pete's looking totally confused and I'm just wishing someone would change the subject.

"I don't know what you mean," Edward says, moving his hand from mine and taking a drink of his beer. He glances around the bar in a failed attempt at nonchalance, given away by the twitching of the muscle in his jaw.

"Me either," I say, following his lead with a shrug.

"Whatever," Jasper says, his eyes shining in amusement as he drinks from his own pint glass. There's no way either of us fooled him.

Our meal is uneventful, and other than the starry-eyed waitress asking for autographs before we leave, nobody looks at us again. Outside the pub however, is different. A small group of people have gathered, and as we emerge a girl in her twenties approaches and asks for a photo. Jasper and Pete are gracious – Edward too, to her face, although I hear him curse under his breath – mainly about Twitter - when she first asks. I stand off to the side as that one girl's courage opens the floodgates to the rest, who I'm guessing would never be brave enough to be the first to ask.

I watch as the boys smile and chat to the people who have gathered just to see them. Edward is a little more reserved, but Jasper and Pete are in their element, soaking up the attention. Growing a little bored I allow my eyes to wander and take in the pretty harbour, boats moored and bobbing gently on the water. I wish that it wasn't close to winter, a boat trip out is pretty appealing. I glance away and to the right, in time to see a man hurrying down a small, cobbled side street, a sizeable camera in his hand.

I edge my way through the bodies until I reach Edward's side.

"Hey," I say, tugging at his arm to try and get his attention. He turns, an annoyed look on his face, which quickly dissipates when he sees it's me. I nod in the direction of the man. Edward looks up, his eyes narrowing as he sees the object of my concern.

"Guys," he calls out to his friends, and they look up too. "Let's go." All three of them move away from the crowd, calling a goodbye as they leave. I feel Edward reach for my hand to drag me along, but as I follow his gaze to the man, I see the raised camera at the same moment I feel him drop it again. A string of curse words fall from his mouth.

"He's just the local rag, stop panicking," Jasper says as we walk briskly back towards the car, heads down.

"I don't give a shit, I fucking hate them all," Edward replies, shoulders hunched and hands in his pockets as I glance back around to see the camera lens still trained on us. And I kind of feel the same way right now.

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**It's actually a beautiful day here! Blue sky, sunshine… one thing would make it even better – reviews!**

**Photos of Trelandow – or the house that it's based on – can be found on my FB group, GemmaH Fanfiction – come and have a nosy!**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'd like to thank Sunflower Fanfiction for nominating Making Waves for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand back in June, I was thrilled that someone would think enough of my story to put it forward for something like that. Also, thank you to anybody who took the time to vote or follow the link and add it to their faves or follows, I really appreciate it.**

**Sorry for the update delay, I've also been working on a O/S for TLS angst contest – whether I'm actually happy enough with what I've written to actually enter it remains to be seen, but I've made a decent start at least!**

**Hope all my American readers had a good 4****th**** July ****. Ok, enough rambling, let's get on with it!**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer of course.**

**Chapter 9**

Edward is pensive as we settle back into the car. Pete and Jasper chat animatedly in the front seat, but the way Jasper glances back now and then tells me he's concerned about his friend.

"We're not going back to the house yet," Jasper announces. "Pull down here, Pete." He points to a lane on the right with a signpost to the beach. Edward glances at me and I offer him a small smile. He looks away and I feel every difference that exists between us, hit me. I can't help but feel stupid for actually letting myself think there might be a place for me in his world, if only for a few short weeks. Clearly he realizes it now and whether he had his epiphany when his friends arrived, or at the moment when the photographer raised his camera and snapped the picture of us together, I don't know, but finally the truth about our situation has struck me too. I only realize that I let out a loud sigh, when Jasper's curious gaze switches from Edward to me before he turns back around.

There's only one other car parked up and I assume its owners are the couple strolling along the sand in the distance. We climb out. There's a much stronger wind here than there was at the harbour and I wrap my jacket tightly around me, crossing my arms across my chest for added protection.

"If you're cold, we can just go home," Edward says to me, concern enriching his voice.

"No we can't," Jasper says as he comes up behind us. "She'll be fine, stop looking for excuses to hide away. Come on." He jostles into Edward playfully as he walks on ahead, earning nothing more than a scowl from the beautiful man beside me.

"You'll have wrinkles if you don't stop frowning like that," I tell him light-heartedly, registering that this is how his face has looked for most of the day. "You don't want to wreck your modelling career, do you?" As if anything could really damage those looks.

"I think the newspaper scandals have probably already done that for me," he says cynically, looking determinedly out at the horizon as we walk. I say nothing, and he looks down at me and smiles in a resigned way. I can't help the way my heart thumps as he keeps his eyes on me a moment longer than I consider casual and I suddenly feel self-conscious beneath his gaze, my cheeks warming as I look down and away. I've never been _that _girl; shy in the company of guys, and I wonder if it's him, or his status that intimidates me.

I look ahead and see Jasper and Pete picking their way precariously over some rocks, to reach a cut-off strip of sand. As Edward moves in that direction, I laugh nervously and stop walking.

"There's no way I'm going over there," I tell him. "I'll fall and land in one of those rock pools and get hypothermia."

"No you won't," he says, smiling at my reluctance. "Come on." He moves to walk on.

"Nuh-uh, not happening." He stops.

"Come on, Bella. I won't let you fall." He holds out his hand to me and I stare at it like an idiot, for far longer than any sane person would. I really want to hold his hand, I'm just not sure I'm willing to risk my life on those rocks for the chance to. Making the decision for me, he stretches out and grabs me, wiggling his fingers in between mine until we're fitted together to his satisfaction. I look down and feel a rush as I take in how large his fingers look wrapped around my far smaller hand. He tugs gently at me until I walk with him, hesitating at the edge of the rocks, until he begins to pick a path across that I follow.

I don't raise my eyes from my feet as we move steadily across, my feet occasionally slipping, but Edward remaining as stable as ever, even on the slick, grey surface. Just once I almost bring us both down, but Edward saves us, merely laughing at me when I whimper a little and ask if we can go back now. My heart's thumping loudly enough in my chest from his touch alone, without the added jolts from my near-slips.

Finally we reach the other side. My feet hit the sand and I sigh with relief, looking up at Edward with a triumphant grin that I can't hide. The smile he shoots back at me makes me light-headed, as he shakes his head in good-natured despair at me.

I look over at Jasper and Pete, seated on a large rock that stands in isolation in the sand. Approaching the two, I'm completely aware that Edward still has his hand securely gripped around mine. I'm not about to turn around and remind him that I don't need his support any longer; that actually, I'm pretty capable of walking on flat, sea-washed sand alone, because in his presence, anything he does could knock me off balance at any moment.

"You're sure the tide's not coming in, right?" I ask the three guys, as the next wave stops barely ten feet away from us.

"Yeah, pretty sure," Jasper replies nonchalantly. He doesn't sound as positive as I'd like about his answer. Still, nobody else seems concerned so I decide to go with it. Pete takes a cigarette from a pack, then offers them around. While I decline, both the boys go ahead. I stop myself whimpering in discontent as Edward drops my hand to light his cigarette. I push my hands into my jacket pocket, but before I can get the left one in all the way, I feel something snaking around it and pulling it out again. Edward smirks at me around his cigarette as he pulls my hand into his pocket with his own hand, instead.

All of the long-dormant sensations that my body experiences at the gesture, flare up and rush through my body, sparking and somersaulting and bringing every inch of me to life. It's like being fifteen again, the summer that my high-school crush finally noticed that I existed and draped his arm around my shoulders at the movie theatre. For the first time in years I remember vividly how it felt when he parked his car a block away from my house so he could kiss me goodnight without having to worry about my disapproving parents. The nervous excitement, the desire, the worry at being out of my depth; it's all being replayed as my older and supposedly wiser self, feels these intense emotions for the first time in over a decade. I'm certain that I must look every inch as edgy as I feel in front of these three handsome, celebrity men. What the hell am I doing here? Why me? I wonder if it's simply because I was an easy option. He knocked on my door and there I was. Coupled with the fact that I had absolutely no idea who he was, I guess I can see how he might have decided to come back to me again initially. The fact he's chosen to keep me around now his friends are here is still a mystery to me. I mean, I saw pictures of other girls he's been involved with in those newspaper articles, and we're talking stunningly beautiful women. I can't even begin to compare myself with them, it's just too goddamn depressing.

I see Pete openly staring. As he pulls lazily on his cigarette, his eyes travel from where our hands are tangled in Edward's pocket and up to my face. He raises his eyebrows when he sees me looking back.

"Do you always hold hands like that with your friends, Bella?" he asks me with a smile. "Because I wouldn't mind a go, later." He chuckles and I feel my cheeks burn as Edward's hand tightens around mine in a move that I'm guessing is unconscious. Pete clearly catches the look that Edward shoots him in response, as he holds up his hands in surrender. "Hey! No need to look at me like that, Bella said you were just friends," he protests.

"We are," Edward manages to say through firmly gritted teeth, his hand still pulsing around mine.

"Then what's the problem?" A look of realization crawls across Pete's face the moment the words leave his lips. "Shit, ok. Sorry, mate," he says. "I was just teasing, I mean I wouldn't really—"

"Pete, let's walk," Jasper interrupts, grabbing Pete's sleeve and dragging him off the rock.

I kind of know what just happened, _I think_. I hadn't dare look at Edward, so I can't be sure.

"Are we walking too?" I ask him. He takes a last drag on his cigarette and pinches it out with his thumb, placing it in his other pocket rather than throwing it down. He blows the smoke out.

"No. I think I need to stay away from Pete for a bit." He moves to the rock and leans back against it, half sitting on a shelf that juts out. Edward untangles our hands and slides both of his underneath my jacket until he has one on each side of my waist, grasping me gently.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," he admits. At his words, I flash back to my thoughts of stunning models at his side and feel my stomach sink. How stupid could I be, to think he actually liked me? And so, with this in mind, the next words he speaks come as a shock. "There's no way I should be exposing you to all the shit I have to live with. You make me feel like I want to protect you, Bella, but just by being with me, you're plunged into the middle of the craziness by association. I don't know what to do." His thumbs stroke me through my sweater as his hands remain firmly on my waist. My brain resets and my stomach flips again at the thought of him wanting to protect me. Any and all traces of feminist in me, break free and float away. My mother would be so disappointed.

"You could walk away," I suggest, my voice trembling slightly as I wonder why I'm suggesting the very thing that terrifies me the most at this moment. He laughs quietly, a sweet sound that carries away on the wind.

"I'm not going to do that," he says, pulling me closer until I'm standing between his legs. I rest my hands on his arms and let my eyes dart nervously from his beautiful face, to the smattering of hair that shows above the neck of his shirt. If I'd been cold before, now there is only warmth as a glow burns within me, ignited by his words and actions. "Unless you want me to?" he asks. He's frowning again as I look up at him.

"No," I tell him. He's leaning towards me now, and his hands draw me irresistibly closer. Edward's lips are almost on my own before I've recovered enough to move to meet him.

He's in no hurry, moving his mouth lazily against mine in ways that make my toes curl for what feels like the longest, most agonizing time. Apparently he has far more self-control than I do, because despite the tell-tale clue he's enjoying it that presses against my stomach as he holds me close, it's my tongue that can finally stand it no longer and slips out to find his, first. _ Or maybe he knows his own self-control isn't up to much so he was avoiding antagonising it_, I muse as he meets my tongue with his own and groans hungrily into my mouth, pushing himself against me. I arch my back, deliberately pushing my body into his as I slide my hands up his arms, across his wide shoulders and into his hair. It feels amazing and I can't help twisting my fingers in and pulling on it as the kiss continues. I'm pretty sure the sounds we're both making are verging on obscene when, after a while I suddenly become aware of voices approaching and pull away, panting.

"Fuck," he gasps, struggling for breath as much as I am.

"I think Jasper & Pete are coming back," I tell him. We're hidden from view behind the rock, but their voices are moving closer and they'll round it soon.

"I can't go anywhere yet," he groans with a deliberate look down at his crotch. I follow his gaze and take in his predicament, only realising my tongue is poking out between my lips when he hisses loudly and curses at me.

"I'll turn around, they'll never know," I tell him, moving so my back is to him. I move until I feel him behind me. His arms wrap around me and I wiggle back without thinking too much about it until he moans quietly.

"I don't think this is going to help," he says, his mouth close to my ear and a tortured twist in his voice. I smile to myself, smug at the effect I've had on him and with my inferiority complex gone for the time being.

"I'm sorry, I'll move," I say, pushing away from him, just as Jasper and Pete appear. Edward grabs me and pulls me back to him.

"Don't you dare," he growls, his arms holding me close.

"So… uh, apparently I was wrong about the tide going out," Jasper says, already walking away from us, back the way we came. Just behind him, Pete runs to try and avoid a wave that speeds towards him across the sand, making him curse as he fails to outrun it and it soaks his feet. I snort and hear Edward chuckling in my ear.

"We'll be right behind you," Edward tells them, waiting until they're a short distance away before he nudges me forward and stands. "Okay, let's go," he says. I try not to look, but my eyes are drawn down to his crotch. "It's alright, Bella, I'm decent again," he tells me, smirking as I feel my cheeks heating up at being caught checking.

I panic slightly at the rising tide when we're around half way across the rocks. I step with more confidence now, although whether it's from the assurance of Edward's hand, practice or just a desire to get out of there before I get swept out into the Atlantic, I'm not sure, but whatever; it's working for me.

The moment we hit the beach on the other side, Edward withdraws back into himself a little. The smirks and teasing are gone, the only thing that remains is his hand in mine. As we climb back into the car, I sit back on the opposite side of the seat from him, until he pulls gently on my sleeve and I shift myself across, close enough so our legs are touching. He holds my hand on his lap, drawing absentminded patterns on my palm with his thumb, clearly having no idea how crazy the sensation is making me, as he carries on a conversation with Jasper.

"You are coming in aren't you?" he asks as he helps me down from the car when we reach Trelandow.

"Sure," I say. "If you want me to." He leans in close, checking that Jasper and Pete are out of earshot, before speaking.

"Will you stay the night if I want that too?" he asks softly. I'm pinned up against the car by his looming body, the other two guys checking their phones as they wait for us by the front door of the house. I have no idea how I should answer, I'm only aware of how my body wants me to.

"I don't know," I tell him honestly, allowing myself time to think.

"Think about it," he tells me, his green eyes burning intensely into my own. And I am; I can think of nothing else, as images of what it would be like to spend the night with him assault my imagination. So I nod in reply, because I really don't think I can trust myself to speak.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer – Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**

**Chapter 10**

**Edward**

Jas has tried to engage me in conversation several times, but Pete showing an interest in Bella has kick-started some kind of possessive, caveman streak in me. Coupled with the fact that Bella hasn't taken her eyes off me for more than a couple of seconds since we got back to the house, I can't concentrate long enough to offer him more than two word replies.

"So when does the new lifestyle kick in?" he asks, finally getting my attention as we sit in the living room. I notice Bella looks up too. We've not gone into the details of what's going on, so it makes sense she'd be interested.

"I can still have a drink," I tell him. "I just have to keep a diary. My first appointment is next week, but everything else is out now as far as I'm concerned."

"You're not tempted to have one last blast?" Pete asks. I try not to laugh as I see the identical looks of disapproval that Jasper and Bella shoot at him.

"No, Pete," I tell him, much as you'd speak to a child. "What's the point? This is Cornwall, not fucking London. It's easy to keep off it all here."

Pete laughs.

"You can't stay here forever, Ed. At some point you've got to come back to the big smoke."

"What's happening with your commitments?" Jasper cuts in before I can stress too much over Pete's frighteningly valid point.

"I'm not sure. Garrett texted earlier to say he'd ring me. I'm hoping he can get me out of Celebrity House Watch."

"Have you signed the contract?" Jas asks with a frown.

"Yeah," I say with a sigh, knowing the chances of getting out of it now are basically zero.

"Shit," he says. "You could always fake a breakdown?"

"He might have a real one yet," Pete adds with a laugh.

"Thanks, Pete," I say with a scowl. "That's really helpful." Pete doesn't give a shit, he just shrugs his shoulders and carries on chuckling to himself.

It's an hour later, when Garrett rings. I've exchanged texts with him, but it's the first time we've actually spoken since the coke scandal broke. It's not his fault, incidentally; I've been avoiding his calls. I excuse myself and duck into the kitchen.

"So you're finally talking to me?" he asks as I answer. "I feel privileged." I consider telling him to fuck off, but he's the only one keeping my career – if you can call it that – afloat right now. I definitely need him more than he needs me.

"Sorry, man. My head's been a bit fucked up, I've been laying low."

"In Cornwall, I heard."

"Yeah." I forge ahead before he has time to offer a response. "Listen, what's going on with everything? Have you managed to get me out of House Watch?" Garrett sighs loudly.

"You knew it was unlikely, Edward. Sorry, it's a no-go."

"Fuck," I say, my hand wrapped around the back of my neck as I crane to see back through to the living room. I can't help the frown that weighs heavily on my brow when I see Pete and Bella laughing together.

"You know how it is, Edward. They've seen the publicity you've been getting this week and they want you even more. You meet with them the week after next, and go into the house the week after that."

"And there's absolutely nothing else we can try?" I ask, aware that I'm beginning to whine a little.

"Sorry, Edward, but you signed on the dotted line," he says. I sigh.

"Yeah, I know. Ok, well I'll call you for details next week," I tell him, then we say our goodbyes and ring off.

I grab four beers from the fridge and take them back through to the living room with me. Pete has managed to bag himself a spot beside Bella. He's lounging, with his arm stretched out along the back of the sofa behind her. He looks right at home, but Bella jumps up as soon as she sees me.

"I need to pick some stuff up from my place," she says, casting me a meaningful look. I forget to breathe for a moment as the meaning behind her words strikes me.

"_Think about it,"_ I'd told her. And clearly she has.

"Okay. Well, I'll come with you," I say, setting two of the beers down unopened, while I hand the other two to Jasper & Pete. "We'll be back soon," I tell them. "Make yourselves at home."

We leave the house and step into the semi-darkness that has begun to fall.

"You're staying?" I ask her when we're no more than two steps from the house. I can hear the exhilaration in my voice.

"I'll stay," she confirms, but I sense the hesitation that hangs onto the end of the brief statement.

"Is there a but?" I ask. She's quiet for a moment. I give her time to collect her thoughts and speak.

"No," she replies. Then, "Kind of." She lets out a long sigh. "It's just… the guys. The thought of them in the house and… you know."

I did know. It also didn't bother me. Over the years, when we'd been at our worst, I'd shared more than a house with those two guys during sex: Rooms? Yes. Beds? Yes. Girls? Hell yes. But if it bothered Bella, then fair enough, I'd go with that. Something completely alien inside me felt the need to make her happy. The realization confused me. I'd had girlfriends before, I'd even go so far as to say I'd loved one or two, but I'd never felt this way towards any of them. If I was honest, it was pretty fucking unsettling.

"We don't have to," I try to reassure her as I feel for her hand and intertwine my fingers with hers. "I just want to be with you."

She's quiet for a moment, but then I hear her huff and she shakes her head as she looks down at the ground. "What?" I ask.

"This," she says. "Whatever's going on here. This isn't real; this kind of thing doesn't happen to girls like me." She stops and turns to look at me, as though challenging me to disagree. I nudge her backwards until she's leaning against the stone wall that runs along beside the path, and hold onto her waist with my hands.

"Well they should," I say, lowering my face to hers. "Because girls like you are extraordinary, and you deserve extraordinary things to happen to you."

She lets out something close to a whimper as my lips find hers, and I can't hold back the low moan that rises from my throat in response as I sweep my tongue along her bottom lip. "Besides," I murmur against her mouth. "I'm really not that special." I press my lips to hers again, before she pulls away a moment later, already breathless.

"Well you feel pretty special to me," she says, as she leans back in to kiss me again. We enjoy one another a little while longer, but then she breaks away from me.

"We should keep going," she says. I raise an eyebrow and smirk.

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," I tell her. She swats at me.

"I mean to the cottage!" she scolds, the smile on her face belying the tone of her voice. I take her hand and lead her back onto the path. We walk along, each quiet in our own thoughts.

"Are you really going on that House Watch show?" Bella asks at last.

"It looks like it," I tell her. "I talked about it with my manager and we decided it was a good opportunity for me. I can't believe it's only been a couple of weeks since I signed on for it. It feels like a lifetime ago."

"What made you change your mind?" she asks.

"Fuck," I say, exhaling loudly as I drag my hand down over my face. Where to start? "The shit in the papers, the fallout from the shit in the papers, the way I have this weird fucking craving for a little privacy all of a sudden." _You_, I add silently, not wanting to freak her out.

We reach the cottage and Bella hasn't commented again and I have no idea what she's thinking. She unlocks the front door and I follow her inside as she flicks on the light, illuminating the small hallway in a soft glow. I close the door behind us and step in front of her, reaching around to the back of her head to stroke her hair.

"You know, we could always stay here tonight," I say. She shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips as she looks away from me.

"Edward…" she says, the rebuff that's coming already evident in her tone. "You can't leave your friends there alone, it's not fair." I have a fairly good idea that Jas and Pete would understand and that they'd have done the same, but things were going too well with her to spoil them with a disagreement over this. Besides, I had to consider that maybe she just wasn't ready. I relent and stand back so she can collect everything she needs.

"What made you decide to stay over?" I ask her on the walk back.

"Honestly?" she asks. She looks so unsure I'm not convinced she'll even tell me.

"Yeah," I say, squeezing her hand encouragingly.

"Two things really," she says. "The first is Pete." I stop dead, my heart thumping in my chest. I should have known earlier when they were sitting so closely on the sofa.

"Pete?" I ask, hoping maybe I've misheard her. She's cringing slightly as she looks up at me.

"I'm really sorry," she says. "I tried to ignore it, but I can't help how I feel." I'm silent as I regard her and try to process her words. "You're upset, aren't you?" she asks anxiously. "I hoped you wouldn't be. You seem closer to Jasper than Pete."

"I'm… I'm just…" I shake my head, unable to sort out the appropriate words from the feelings that are coursing through my body.

"I mean, he seems a nice enough guy, but every so often he just looks at me like… I'm something to eat. I don't know, it just makes me kind of uncomfortable."

Her words register and immediately I feel relieved laughter bubble up inside my chest and burst out of my mouth.

"Shit, Bella!" I exclaim to her wide-eyed face. She clearly has no idea of the path her words just took me down as she watches me laugh, confusion written all over her face. "I thought you were going to say you were ditching me for Pete!" I explain between chuckles as my mirth slowly fades to leave me with a smile.

"What? No!" she chokes out. "Jesus, Edward, just… no!" The small shiver that runs through her coupled with the look of horror on her face, amuses me again and another peal of laughter escapes as I throw my arm around her. "I mean that Pete is my first reason because, even if I was alone in the cottage, I can't say one hundred per cent I'd trust him not to try to climb in through my bedroom window." She looks up at me as we walk, all big, concerned eyes. "That sounds ridiculous now I've said it out loud," she says apologetically. I shake my head.

"You must be a good judge of character," I reassure her with a wink. "That's exactly the kind of thing Pete would do. He'd never hurt you, he's just…" I search for the right word. "Tenacious."

She snorts.

"And disloyal. He knows you like me, he said as much at the beach earlier," she says. I shake my head and she raises her eyebrows.

"It's hard to explain. The lifestyle we lead…" I pull myself up. "I _led_, isn't anything close to what you're used to, Bella. Pete's not disloyal, he's had my back more times than I can remember, but when it comes to girls…" Shit. How the fuck can I explain without making myself and my friends sound like complete bastards? "Well, there's never been anybody like you before."

It feels woefully inadequate for something so massively true, it's made me re-evaluate my whole life.

I can tell that she still doesn't fully get it, but it's all I can risk offering her for now. I could tell her stories that would make her hair curl, but there's no way I'm risking anything that might make her run. Besides, to me it all feels irrelevant now; it's as though it happened a lifetime ago, to a different person. Who knew a single stranger could have such a profound effect in such a short space of time?

We're nearing Trelandow and I suddenly realize how dark it's become out here, as the windows of the downstairs glow brightly in the gloom, touching us lightly as we grow closer to the house.

"You said there were two reasons," I say. She slows and then stops altogether.

"The second is you," she tells me, dipping her head shyly. I step in front of her and wait for her to look up at me. When she does, I look at her questioningly and she laughs gently as she averts her eyes again.

"Are you actually going to make me say it?" she asks, shaking her head and gripping the fabric on the forearms of my jacket as I lift my hands to her waist.

"Yes," I say simply, with a playful smile. She lifts her gaze to mine and holds it steady, half her face in shadow and the rest bathed in the low glow emitted by the house.

"I just don't want to be away from you," she says. "Today… the touches, the kisses. I'm not ready for it to end."

It's like she read my mind.

"Me neither," I confess.

My lips are ghosting over hers when the sound of the front door and a new shaft of light slicing through the darkness, alert me to the fact we're no longer alone.

"Back already?" Pete's calls out as I pull back reluctantly. "I didn't think you'd be back for a while. I was just going to have a smoke." He lifts his hand and holds up a large joint. "Is it okay?" he asks, his voice uncertain. "I can bin it if not…" His new concern for my predicament both surprises and touches me. I have a good relationship with Pete on the whole, but there's no escaping the fact he's a selfish prick most of the time.

I'm aware I'm staring hard at the fat, white, roll of promise, but I just can't tear my fucking eyes away. I want to tell him, _yeah, it's okay. In fact, fuck it, I'll share it with you, _but as I swallow and try to encourage enough moisture into my mouth to speak, I become aware of the warmth of her hand as it wraps around mine.

I feel a tug and she's whispering, asking me if I'm alright. Her voice snaps me back to the moment like a slap to the face, and I blink, trying to shake the feeling of utter disorientation I feel. I look down at her and take in the look of concern that marrs her features.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," I reassure her, squeezing her hand. I turn and take in the imposing presence of Trelandow as it looms behind Pete. In my mind, as he stands there with the joint in his hand, he's like a caricature; a representation of what my life has become. Behind him stands the house, strong and grand. It towers over him, making him appear small and inconsequential. It's the perfect metaphor to help with the decision I'm faced with, I couldn't have _planned_ it better.

"Nah, go ahead, Pete," I tell him. "It's fine." Bella reaches across her body and wraps her free hand around my arm. Pete nods and wanders off into the darkness of the garden and we set off walking again to cover the short distance to the front door.

"That can't have been easy," she says as my hand reaches for the door handle. I pause and turn my head to look at her.

"I can't even begin to fucking tell you," I confess. She smiles gently.

"I'm proud of you," she says.

"Yeah?" I ask. She nods. "I guess I'm proud of me too," I say, returning her smile as I open the door and walk inside.

* * *

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	11. Chapter 11

**Anyone up for a little angst? Grab some tissues and follow me…**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**

**Chapter 11**

"Hey! Cullen!" There's a rap on the bedroom door that accompanies Jasper's unnecessarily harsh wake-up call as he shouts through the wood. "You might want to get up. That fucker from the local rag sold us out."

It takes me a moment to gather my bearings, not least because of the warm, sweet-smelling body pressed up against me. "Cullen!" he yells, knocking again. I struggle to force my eyes open.

"For fuck's sake, Jas, I'm coming!" I shout in irritation, edging the covers back and staggering, sleep-drunk across the floor. I open the door and step out onto the landing, shooting a concerned look back at Bella as I pull it gently closed behind me. By some fucking miracle she's still sleeping, although she's shifting slightly and I'm sure she's probably been disturbed by the commotion.

Jas is standing outside my door, clutching his phone. He holds it up for my inspection. I take it from him and peer at the tabloid app he has open and see the picture of me holding hands with Bella. '_Edward Cullen Spotted out with Mystery Girl,_' reads the headline.

"Ah, shit," I mutter, scrolling down. "I really didn't want to involve her in anything like this."

"It comes with the territory, mate. You know that," Jasper tells me.

"Of course I know," I tell him, cringing a little. "But I'd hoped it wouldn't be an issue here."

"You're going to have to tell her everything," he says, his voice soft and his eyes darting to the door. "They'll know you're here, it doesn't take a genius to work it out."

"Fuck," I say, rubbing my fingers along the stubbly roughness of my chin. "I might as well just take her to the airport now." Jasper rolls his eyes.

"Stop panicking, why would she run?"

"Oh, I don't know, Jas. Maybe it'll be the part when I explain why my family's as fucked up as it is."

I glance over at a door on the other side of the landing, feeling my stomach lurch.

"Better she hears it from you than reads it in the paper though," he says, offering me a sympathetic look.

"Yeah, I suppose so," I relent.

"Pete and I are going to get out of your hair," he says. "I've got to go in and see Alice this afternoon. I'm not supposed to have been seen playing out with you, she's pretty pissed off." Jasper's face was fucking alight, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He has it bad for his manager. I'm pretty sure she likes him too, but she's far too much of a professional to let it go anywhere. For now, at least.

I pull on a pair of jeans and follow him downstairs, having a coffee with them both before waving them off. A car drives slowly past on the road outside the gates as they load their bags in Pete's Range Rover, and I immediately wonder if it's the press. The paranoia's setting in already.

Bella finds me in the living room, the curtains closed and the lights on. She settles beside me on the sofa and I turn to her, allowing her to place a soft kiss on my lips.

"Did the guys leave?" she asks.

"Yeah," I tell her, turning her hand over gently in mine and playing with her fingers. I sigh, wondering if the truth will change things between us.

"Something's wrong," she says, the sincere concern in her voice warming me inside. "Did something happen?"

"Sort of," I say. I look up into her face. She still has a pillow crease on her face and I smile slightly as I run my finger gently down it. "The reporter that took our picture yesterday at the harbour? He got one of us holding hands. It's in the tabloids today, they're all wondering who my mystery girl is." She doesn't really react and I wonder what she's thinking.

"Should that bother me?" she asks.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. I was so used to being in the spotlight all my life that I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have it suddenly pointing right at me. "There'll be speculation. If anybody you've ever known sees it then there's the chance they'll sell a story about you."

"Ha!" she says, eyes shining with mirth. "Good luck finding one! I haven't led the most exciting of lives." I shrug.

"If they can't find one they'll probably just make one up," I tell her truthfully. She's aghast.

"They can't print it if it isn't true!" she protests. I laugh.

"Why not?" She looks at me as though I've lost my mind.

"Uh, libel?" I shake my head, charmed by her naivety.

"Even if you could afford to take them to court, Bella, you'd never win. You were out with me, so in the eyes of the law you've put yourself in the public eye. It might not be right, but it more or less makes you fair game. It's not worth it, you'll only bring yourself more attention." Her shoulders droop and I wrap my arms around her, bringing her close.

"I guess I don't care anyway if it means I get to be with you," she says as she snuggles in. My heart lurches as I think of the hurdle that lays ahead.

"Bella, I have some stuff I need to tell you. About me and my family," I say. She sits up and looks at me, suddenly alert again. "The press are going to have worked out we're here at Trelandow and it's going to rake up a lot of shit from the past. I want you to hear what happened from me, not by reading a load of tabloid speculation and sensationalist bullshit.

"Okay," she says, her voice quiet. "Go on."

"This isn't going to be easy for me," I warn her. She takes my hand and grips it with hers.

"It's alright," she says. "I'm here."

And so I begin.

* * *

It all went to shit in the summer of 2002. I'd turned seventeen that June, but could easily have passed for nineteen. The girls were lining up to tell me how good-looking I was, and like the cocky little shit I'd become, I lapped up the attention.

I'd been there, done it, dropped it, tapped it. My parents were permissive at best, enabling at worst. I'd had my first drink, cigarette and joint with my dad and lost my virginity to an actress friend of my mum's. In her defence, I don't think Mum ever knew.

My best friend back then was Emmett McCarty. I'd grown up with Em, he was a year and a half older than me and was the brother I never had. His dad was the drummer in Vamps and my dad fronted the group. As we grew up, we always toured with them. My mum told me it was because we were a family and families stick together. I found out later it was because my dad fucked anything that moved if she wasn't around, so she made sure she always was.

Emmett met Rose at a club in London as we welcomed in 2002. (He was eighteen and I could pass for it. The bouncers never even bothered to ask us for ID, that shit wasn't as strict as it is now). She was a model; tall, blonde, hot as fuck. They were immediately inseparable and she came out with us all the time after that. There'd be a gang of us, and more often than not Rose would bring along a model friend or two. I went through them like Winnie the Pooh goes through jars of honey, getting rid of them once I'd had what I wanted. She rarely brought the same one twice.

But then she met Vera.

Vera was Russian and new to London. She'd been signed to the same agency as Rose, and feeling sorry for the girl who didn't know a soul, Rose took her under her wing.

Emmett and I were at the bar buying our drinks when Rose brought her out for the first time. I turned around, bottle to my mouth, and my sixteen year old heart stopped beating in my chest. Vera was fucking ethereal. She was tall and blonde, like Rose, but her hair was much lighter, almost white, and lying softly around her face in barely-there waves. Her lips were full, her nose was neat and I swear to God her eyes were already fucking me from twenty feet away as she walked towards us with Rose.

"Who the fuck is she?" I asked Em, lowering the bottle from my mouth. He pointed with his own bottle and leaned until his shoulder touched mine.

"That, my friend, is Vera," he said, pronouncing it _vair-ah._

"I think I'm in love," I told him. He threw back his head and laughed, loud and booming. I wasn't even fucking joking.

When mid-July came around, it was time for the Cullen freakshow to head west to our house in Cornwall for the summer. We did this every year and would be joined by whatever collection of Bohemian performers, artists, outcasts or hangers-on my parents had invited. That year, Vera came too.

My dad had struggled with alcohol for a while, but I guessed I hadn't realised just how bad he was until that summer. He was a nightmare to live with and none of our guests stuck around longer than a couple of days; it was a far cry from the halcyon days of my childhood summers here. Eddie (my dad), was a complete bastard to everyone. Everyone except Vera. I remember being grateful for that, it was one less thing to feel ashamed of him about.

I decided it was better to stay out of his way, so Vera and I spent most of our time either down on the private beach or holed up in my room, taking whatever drugs we could lay our hands on, and fucking. Vera seemed a lot less bothered by Eddie than I was, and she'd sometimes stay up late with him, drinking or sharing a spliff. It pleased me that both my parents had accepted her so readily because I was head over fucking heels for the girl.

When Em and Rose came to visit, it was a welcome relief for me. Finally someone I could confide in. My dad and Em had always had a good relationship, and I could see the strain on my friend's face when he arrived at two in the afternoon and found my dad already passed out on a lounger beside the pool. He helped me carry him inside and put him to bed. The next day we booked a fishing trip and left the girls at home. It was good to spend the day with Em again, and we were laughing by the time we reached home that evening.

Rose was alone in the garden when we got back to Trelandow, sitting beside the pool in the remaining warmth of the waning day, book in one hand and glass of wine in the other. Emmett greeted her with a kiss as I looked on.

"Where is everyone?" I asked her. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head and closed her book.

"Your dad went to sleep off his excesses again, so your mum decided to drive in to Padstow for a while. Vera had a headache so she went for a lie down." I frowned. It wasn't the first time since we got here. I hoped it wasn't anything serious.

"I'll go and see if she needs anything," I said, turning and walking back through the garden to the house.

It was cool and quiet inside. Other than my concerns for Vera, I was feeling pretty good after my day with Em as I climbed the stairs. I quietly pushed open the door to my bedroom. The curtains were drawn; we rarely opened them, and they flapped gently in the breeze from outside. I looked to the bed but it was empty, the bedclothes still rumpled from that morning.

Looking back it was obvious what was going on, but I was fucking clueless. I was in denial even as I heard the sounds that began to drift across the landing.

I stopped and cocked my head, hand still on my door handle. I let it go and followed the sounds, my heart beginning to thump more forcefully with each step. When I was outside my mum and dad's room, I paused and turned my head so my ear was beside the white painted wood of the door. The bottom dropped out of my world as I heard my father and my girlfriend, betraying me in the worst way. I steeled myself, grasped the handle and pressed it, pushing on the door.

And there they were. In flagrante delicto.

Vera didn't see me at first, positioned as she was on top of my dad with her back to me, but his eyes locked on me immediately.

"Fuck!" he swore, scrambling to move. Vera's head swung in my direction, and she clambered quickly off him, calling after me as I turned and bolted from the room.

In truth, I don't remember how I got to the headland, but I'd been there long enough to get my breath back before my dad found me. I was sitting on a patch of spongy, soft grass, a short way off the footpath and about six feet from the cliff edge. My heart was breaking, but for some reason, the tears refused to come. I'd been willing them to, thinking it might make me feel better, but as I heard my dad approach and say my name, I was glad that they hadn't.

I turned and narrowed my eyes as he walked unsteadily towards me. What the hell was she thinking? The man was a fucking drunk. My lip curled in distaste.

I rose and stalked towards him, fists clenched

"You fucking bastard!" I yelled. "What the fuck did you think you were doing? You're my _father_."

"Edward…" he began, hands raised. I ignored him and ploughed straight ahead, pulling my arm back as soon as I was close enough, and launching a powerful punch that landed right on target. His head whipped to the side from the impact and he staggered back, somehow managing to maintain his balance. Not for long though, as I ran at him and gave him a hard shove in the chest. He landed on his arse several feet away. He righted himself into a seated position, fingers gingerly touching his face where I'd hit him. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I fucking love her, Dad! I love her!" I yelled. I paced in a circle, hands in my hair as I struggled to deal with the whole fucked up situation. "_Loved_ her," I corrected myself quietly with a slightly hysterical laugh and rubbed my face. I turned to face him and shrugged. "I loved her," I said simply as he remained on the ground looking up at me. His face was a picture of remorse and anguish as he watched me finally fall apart, the tears accompanied by ugly, body wracking sobs as I dropped to my knees.

"I'm sorry, Son," he said, his own eyes beginning to water.

"Don't fucking call me that," I spat at him, standing up again. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a father any more." I swiped the back of my hand across my nose, sniffing loudly as I walked straight past him, back onto the footpath and began to run in the opposite direction from the house. It was the height of the tourist season, and as I raced to get as far away from him as possible I passed a young couple first and then a man walking his dog alone about five minutes later.

I found out later that the couple had noticed him. He'd already gone by the time the dog-walker passed the spot.

It was dark some hours later when I finally wandered back into the grounds of Trelandow. As I approached the house I saw the police car parked in the drive. It certainly wasn't the first time the Cullens had received a visit from the police, but this time a twisted feeling of dread settled deep inside me.

I let myself in and walked slowly into the living room, where I could hear voices. I knew I was a fucking mess, but I still wasn't prepared for the intensity with which all eyes regarded me when I entered.

I looked around. Emmett was over by the window, my mum was sitting on the sofa flanked by Rose on one side, her arm around Mum's quietly shaking shoulders, and a uniformed female police officer on the other.

There was no sign of either Vera, or my dad. I wondered briefly if they'd run away together.

Nobody said a word for a moment, but then my mum leapt from her seat and started for me.

"What did you do, Edward?" she wailed, tears streaming down her face. "What the hell did you do?" She crashed into me, sending me barrelling backwards and into the wall. I caught hold of her so she didn't lose her balance, but she turned on me, hitting my chest over and over as she howled a string of unrecognisable words at me. I looked up, confused, and locked eyes with Em.

"How the fuck is it _my_ fault?" I asked him, wide-eyed, as the police officer stepped up and calmly pulled my mum away from me. As she sat her back down, Em came over to me. I hadn't moved from the wall; I didn't feel I could trust my trembling legs to hold me up on their own. He stood right in front of me.

"Edward," he said, his voice a low rumble, barely louder than a whisper. My eyes couldn't leave the sight of my distraught mother falling to pieces across the room. "Edward," he repeated more forcefully, pushing his face into my line of vision. I blinked and brought him into focus. "Ed, it's your dad. Someone found him on the beach, he'd…" He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath before continuing. "It looks like he fell from the cliff." I looked away, trying to process everything he was saying, and then looked at Emmett again.

"Is he…"

"He's dead," Em said simply.

"No!" I exclaimed in disbelief. "He can't be! I was there, I was with him, I…"

Emmett wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tightly into his body. I thrashed against him for a moment, but then the fight ebbed from me and I gave in completely, slumping in his embrace and letting all of the pain and grief of the day, explode from me, as my best friend did his best to hold me together.

Rose left that night with Vera. It turned out that she'd understandably been hiding away. Rose took her back to London, leaving Em to look after my mum and me. I was questioned by the police, but because the couple on the cliff had seen Eddie alive after they'd seen me running away, a verdict of accidental death was eventually recorded by the coroner. I seemed to be the only one to wonder if it _was _accidental or if he threw himself off.

My mother only had one person she blamed. Me. According to her, it was all my fault. She could never forgive me, she told me, for leaving him on the cliff, drunk. Didn't I think for a moment that this could happen? Why did I have to be so fucking selfish? He was my father, for fuck's sake. How could I let him be taken away from her because of a _girl_?

I walked away and didn't look back. As far as I was concerned, I lost both of my parents that day.

* * *

I wipe the tears from my eyes and look at Bella. She's crying too.

"Oh my God, Edward. I can't even imagine…" she whispers. She claps her hand over her mouth and shakes her head in apology as the tears run down her face. "I'm so sorry."

I've been expecting her run at any minute throughout the whole story, so the fact she stayed until the end reassures me somewhat. She throws herself at me, hugging me and whispering that it's okay and she's right here, and just like that, the acceptance that has been missing from my life for the past eleven years overwhelms me. I let down the walls that have stood strong for so long and welcome her in. I'm guessing I'll be needing some help in piecing myself back together.

* * *

**If you have any capacity for angst left after that, head over to TLS Angst Contest and read the amazing entries over there. Don't forget to leave the authors some love! If you're angsted out, check out the hawt Dirty Talkin' Edward Contest entries! I may have stories entered in both **

**Thanks for reading – I'd love to hear your reactions to Edward's revelations!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**Bella**

In the shadow of his grief, Edward and I made love for the first time.

Avoiding going too far the night before had been easier than I'd thought it would be, although only because he made it that way.

_We'd stayed up later than Jasper and Pete, and I was falling asleep with my head on his shoulder when he whispered to me that it was time to go up to bed. I was immediately wide awake, heart thumping in my chest._

"_There's no need to look so worried, Bella," he said as he took my hand in his and helped me to my feet. He pulled me close and placed a soft kiss on my lips. "I promised." I looked up at him, feeling grateful that he hadn't decided to back-pedal and make me regret my decision to stay._

_He was already in bed when I finished in the bathroom and padded back into the bedroom wearing my pajamas. The house was cool and I shivered slightly as Edward pulled back the covers to invite me in. I instinctively scooted close to him for warmth as he wrapped his arms around me. _

"_Are you okay?" he asked, nuzzling my hair as I snuggled down in his embrace._

"_Yeah, I'm good," I told him, even though I felt slightly giddy. He brought his lips to mine and we kissed slowly, not even speeding up when the kiss deepened. If it was his way of keeping things calm, it wasn't working. The pace was just as arousing as the most desperate kisses were. At the point at which I moaned lustily into his mouth without even realizing it, he broke away, amused._

"_Maybe we'd better stop," he said quietly, fingers gently brushing my hair away from my face._

"_That's the worst best idea I ever heard," I told him, revealing how conflicted I was._

"_I don't want to be to blame for something you might regret," he said, chivalrously. This is not how I imagined attractive celebrity men to conduct their love lives. I'd almost certainly expected him to try and persuade me to change my mind._

"_Yeah," was all I said, leaning up to kiss him again. "Maybe just one more kiss first." He chuckled softly, but yielded to my request. This time I was the one who pulled away first when it registered I'd just let myself shamelessly grind against his leg, which had found its way in between my mine. "Okay, okay, I need to stop," I gasped, pulling away and rolling onto my back, one arm flung above my head and my chest heaving as I attempted to get myself under control._

"_Come back here," he said, his voice a quiet rumble in the stillness of the room. "I won't kiss you again since you clearly can't control yourself when I do." He pulled me close again, planted a chaste kiss on the top of my head and we settled down. I hummed happily. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt as safe and cocooned. I could happily stay like this forever I decided._

_Edward fell asleep before I did, his breaths gradually deepening until they were bordering on hypnotic. Not hypnotic enough to lull me to sleep though, to my chagrin. My mind was working overtime in contrast to the exhausted paralysis that had claimed my body. I wondered if having sex with him tonight would actually have changed anything? I mean, I wasn't a young girl clinging to my virtue and I didn't have issues with sex before marriage. Hell, I'd even been known to have a couple of one night stands in my time, so love wasn't even on my list of pre-requisites._

_So, what was it about having sex with Edward that scared me so much? I suspected that it came down to trust. There wouldn't be an awkward goodbye and the walk of shame back home, never seeing him again, but equally there would be no declarations of love, private nicknames or goo goo eyes over breakfast either. Well, probably not from him, the goo goo eyes from me were a distinct possibility, I considered, rolling my eyes at myself._

_And therein, I realized, lay the problem. I was falling for him but I had no idea how he really felt about me. He seemed to like me but it took Pete's behaviour for him to actually move in and stake a claim, and yet I knew he couldn't be shy. I also knew there was no way he'd lived the life he did without spinning a line or two to any girl he set his sights on. I'd been trying not to let the whole issue of him with other girls fill my head too much, but I was achingly aware of it all the same. Still, although my head was aware, my heart was forging ahead regardless._

_As I lay there dissecting everything, I decided that sex wouldn't change my feelings for him; what I felt for him went a lot deeper than any physical act. I made a decision to stop overthinking. I wasn't planning on waking him up and jumping his bones there and then, but if it felt right I decided, I wasn't going to keep putting him off._

The next morning I awake to find myself alone in his bed. When I finally find him downstairs, he launches his own revelations at me. I'm barely processing the implications about being pictured with him in the press, before he lets the whole story of everything that happened with his parents unravel for me.

We're both shedding tears and it just about breaks my heart to see him suffering as he so clearly is.

"Oh my God, Edward. I can't even imagine…" I whisper. My hand is clutched across my mouth as I attempt to process it all. I feel immediately bad for the times I tried to persuade him to see things from his mother's point of view when she's such a poisonous bitch. "I'm so sorry," I tell him, shaking my head. I'm sorry for doubting him and automatically assuming his mother wants what's best for him, when she behaved so appallingly eleven years ago. Most of all I'm sorry that he had to go through that whole shit storm in the first place.

I want to make it better for him, to ease everything that clearly still eats away at him and carves him into a hollowed out version of the man that he should be; that he _deserves_ to be.

At the point he lets out a loud, gut-wrenching sob, I throw my arms around his neck, speaking soft reassurances that I'm here for him. I stroke his hair as I hold him close, feeling the wetness of his tears as they run onto my neck and shoulder where he's nuzzled into me. The sobs eventually die down and I pull away slightly, cupping his face with my hands and rubbing my thumbs across his cheeks to wipe away the salty water that has saturated them. He looks at me and I see exactly how broken this man is. There are no pretences in this moment; no swaggering celebrity, no middle finger raised, no sneer. Just raw, human heartache.

He leans forward and ghosts his lips across mine for a moment before he presses them to me with more force. I hear him begin to cry again, but he makes no attempt to pull away. He's clinging to me with a desperation I've never experienced, it's as though he's trying to claw his way inside of me. The kiss is salty, and it takes a while for me to recognize that my own tears are as responsible as his as they flow freely down my face. I can feel how much he needs me and it kills me that I can't make everything better for him.

The atmosphere is charged, the emotions that are enveloping us causing huge sparks as they collide. Comfort and distress. Grief and lust.

Edward leans into me and I shift, lying down as he moves over me. His lips break from mine as we lie back, but his eyes never do. The tears still build up and spill over, dripping onto my chest as I lie beneath him. I feel one drop straight above my heart and the symbolism just about kills me. I reach up and pull him down, kissing his forehead, my lips lingering there for a long moment. He whimpers, such a sad sound from a grown man, and then he tilts his head up and reclaims my lips.

He breaks away often, it almost seems he's checking I'm still here as his eyes flit over my face. The moment our gazes connect though, he's on me again, and each time there's slightly more desperation in his kisses than there was before. His hand trembles as he slides it under my pajama shirt and runs it up the flesh on my side, his thumb sweeping out across my bare breast as he reaches the top. I gasp and he moves across so he holds me in his hand. He isn't still though, it's as though my flesh burns him if he lingers, and God knows I understand that, because his touch burns me too.

Edward's hand slides away and his kisses stops as he rises above me. There's more than emptiness in his eyes now, and although the wateriness remains, there's something else there. It's a spark. It's a _hunger_. My back is arching, pushing my chest toward him even before the fingers that reach down to unfasten the buttons on my pajama shirt reach me. He works slowly, his lips parted and a frown on his face as he concentrates on the task he's trying to complete. His hands still tremble and I'm not convinced he'll ever get the first one undone, when it pops open. The fabric hasn't moved, and he waits until each of the buttons is open before he reaches back up to the top and runs both hands down the center of my body, nudging the flannel aside as he moves downward. My skin turns to gooseflesh with the delicious combination of the heat of his fingers and the chill in the air.

I try to raise myself up and he wraps an arm around my waist to support me as I shrug out of the sleeves and drop the shirt onto the floor beside the couch. Gently he lays me back down as he pulls his t-shirt over his head, then he's lying on me, the sensation of his bare chest against my own one of sheer bliss. It isn't even really lust-driven, more like… being, and comfort and home.

I can't help the sounds escaping from my mouth as he kisses my neck. It's as though every touch of his tongue draws them out of me. My hands are in his hair as he moves lower, but I have no intention of making him stop.

His hands have been roaming all over me, but as they slide further down, his fingers tuck inside the elastic waist of my pajama pants and pause there to dance lightly between the fabric and my skin. He lifts his head and looks at me. He doesn't need to speak for me to know he's asking permission. I nod so slightly I worry he may have missed the gesture, but he tugs gently downward as I lift myself up a little, so I guess he got it. As soon as I'm naked, we work together to finish undressing him too. My hands fumble with the buttons on his jeans and I glance up once to see him watching me with a look that makes me blush and look quickly away again.

He stretches out heavily between my legs and kisses me intently for a long time as I lie beneath him, knees drawn up on each side of his hips as I pray he'll hurry up and do something to ease the ache I have for him.

Finally he reaches down and touches me, letting out a deep moan when his fingers make contact with my wet skin. He moves his fingers away and takes hold of himself. His eyes are open and staring directly into mine as he guides himself inside of me. He feels amazing and my eyes close involuntarily as he fills me. I force them open again and still he's watching me. He pulls out most of the way and then slides home again – and that's when the tears start to flow once more.

As we move together, I wonder over the fact that, despite the relationships I've had in the past, it's only now that I truly grasp the concept of making love. This is soul-reaching. It's intense and it's moving. It's emotionally painful as I watch his face twisting first in ecstasy and then in grief as his tears force my own to return. It's sharing. This is as close to love as anything I've ever felt, despite the ridiculously short amount of time we've known one another. It's unreal. It's agonizingly _too real_. This is a physical connection and an emotional connection, it's an _everything we are_ connection.

I feel it the moment he begins to climax, and he takes me right along with him. He's showing me something I've never felt like this before. It's so powerfully disorientating that I cling frantically to him, moving with him as we soar and then fall together. Grunts and groans and cries and every other nonsensical sound that tumble from our mouths have never made so much sense; I understand every one.

As the final waves ebb away from my body, Edward half-collapses onto me. Our breathing is heavy and his chest still contracts with the hics that follow sobs, although the crying itself seems to have finally stopped.

He raises himself up and gazes heatedly down at me, through red-rimmed eyes.

"Fuck, Bella. That was…" he trails off and I completely understand his loss for words. He's already strung together more than I'd be able to right now. His eyes tear up again. "I think I—"

"Ssssh," I urge him, the thought of watching him fall apart any more restoring my ability to speak. "Enough! That's enough." I wipe away his tears. "No more now," I whisper.

"Alright," he says, bowing his head and closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath and gathers himself.

Edward pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and tucks it around us as we curl up together. Neither of us speak for a while, but finally I have to mention something I'm quietly panicking about.

"Edward?" I begin. He hums in reply. "We didn't use a condom." I feel him tense up beside me and the fingers that have been gently stroking my arm pause for a moment before they start up again.

"I know. Are you…?"

"I'm covered," I reassure him, although I can hear the nerves in my voice still.

"I'm clean, I promise," he says, picking up on my main concern. "I'm irresponsible with a lot of things in my life, but this isn't one of them, I've never forgotten before. I guess it was the stress."

"So I don't need to worry?" I ask him.

"Definitely not. I wouldn't lie about it," he says as he kisses me. "You want to hear something else I wouldn't lie about?" he asks as he nestles into me. "That was the most intense, amazing sex I've ever had."

"You too, huh?" I say, pulling back to look at him with a small smile, warming inside when he returns it with a nod.

I settle back into his arms and we're qu iet again.

"Edward, whatever happened to Emmett?" I ask after a while. "Do you still see him?" He's thoughtful for a moment before he speaks.

"No. I don't. He stuck around for a while after everything, but I basically didn't give a fuck anymore and he couldn't handle it. I guess he pulled me out of one too many fights, or maybe he got sick of the A&E trips when I needed my stomach pumping, I don't know. In the end he split; went off and married Rose. Last I heard he was running his own business in one of the home counties. House in suburbia, two point four kids. Mister nine to five."

"It's sad you lost him too," I muse.

"That was my own fault, Bella. Please don't feel sorry for me when I don't fucking deserve it."

We've fallen silent again when his stomach grumbles loudly.

"Hungry?" I ask.

"Starving," he replies, apologetically.

"How about I take a quick shower and then make us something to eat?" I suggest, shifting. His arms clamp around me.

"Nooooo," he complains. I laugh.

"Ok, how about I take a quick shower, make us something to eat and then we go back to bed?" I ask, raising my eyebrows with a smirk. I have him, I can tell.  
"Deal," he says, loosening his grip on me. As I stand I pull the blanket up with me and wrap it around myself.

"You don't mind if I borrow this, do you?" I ask teasingly as he sprawls still naked on the couch.

"You can have anything you want right now, Bella," he says, bringing his arms up behind his head. I'm tempted to jump right back on the couch with him, but resist.

"After we've eaten!" I say, playfully and leave him smiling after me.

* * *

**Making Waves has been nominated for the TLS Fic of the Week Poll by the lovely Sunflower Fanfiction! There are some great fics up alongside it, please pop over and vote to support your favourites! www dot tehlemonadestand dot net and look for 'Meet the Poll' :)**

**The TLS Angst contest and Dirty Talkin' Edward contest are also still going on and I have entries in both ****. Again there are some incredible stories, go and leave the authors some love!**


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